


Life begins at forty!

by hobbeshalftail3469



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: But then this happened, EuroStar is very handy, F/M, Happy Birthday!, It's all very lovely, Paris!, So I wasn't gonna post, Strike desperately doesn't want his surprise party, best mates will always help out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27690365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/pseuds/hobbeshalftail3469
Summary: So I wasn't going to do anything for Strike's birthday - I was uninspired all day.....and then this thing happened.I'm not really sorry at all - I intended it to be smut.....but that didn't happen - this did instead!
Relationships: Robin Ellacott & Cormoran Strike
Comments: 129
Kudos: 92





	1. We're running away!

**Author's Note:**

> When I was tapping away and thinking of this I hadn't checked times of actual trains - I've been in summer before and they have trains really regularly, leaving really early - but I could only find ones leaving at around 9.20am.....so go with me and suspend belief a bit - I've invented the Strike Express!

Robin was almost giddy with excitement as she unlocked the familiar door to the Denmark Street offices she shared with her work colleague, and latterly, best mate.   
Strike had outdone himself with the gifts he had bestowed upon her only a few weeks earlier for her thirtieth birthday, and she intended to make sure his fortieth was similarly impressive.  
She was therefore mounting the stairs to their offices having sent him a text message whilst waiting for the tube instructing him to 'Get yourself decent, Birthday Boy!' 

The door up to his flat was open as she approached and she could hear him thumping around above her head as she unlocked the office and went through to their now shared space with the familiar scent of tobacco smoke permeating the walls. She rummaged around in the drawer she knew contained 'various bits of crap' and found what she was searching for with a triumphant "Aha!" before returning to the outer office space.  
"This is a bloody god forsaken time of day be looking so bloody smug Ellacott......this had better be good!" he mumbled, scratching sleep crust from his eyes and belching as he scanned Robin's choice of clothing and considered that, despite it being 4am she looked remarkably exuberant.

Robin gave her burly partner's choice of clothing a quick once over - navy trousers, a rather nice grey shirt under his dark blue half zip jumper and his brown boots - he'd do!

"Are you going to explain what's going on?" he asked as she flitted between the office, kitchenette and, before he could stop her, his flat.

She reappeared, looking slightly flushed, but that could easily be explained by her brisk pace up and down the stairs.  
"It's your birthday," she stated.  
He twitched his neck and gave her a bemused smirk, "I know.....Ilsa's been counting it down!"

"Exactly!" Robin said pointedly, "Which means that she's planning a surprise for you.....possibly this evening, or possibly......earlier when she thinks you won't be expecting it and able to avoid it!"

Strike groaned and wrinkled his lips, "Why? When will she learn that no means no when it comes to me and birthday parties!"   
Robin paused directly infront of him, "That's why I'm here," she said, smiling, "We're running away.....I'm officially hiding you for the day.....it's your present!"

Strike's face broke out into one of his crinkle eyed, warmth filled grins, "Bloody brilliant! Right....I take it you have a hideout planned?"  
She nodded and pulled his huge overcoat and scarf off the coat rack.  
"I have indeed, so wrap up and let's go!" and she shooed him out of the office, locked the door and dragged the door on his flat closed as he lumbered his still reluctant to move joints down the stairs.

Once outside she steered him in the direction of Leicester Square tube. He couldn't help but cast her furtive glances as they walked along; her shorter strides meaning that she needed to walk almost twice as quick to cover the same distance as him. The city was in that still sleepy, dark and shiny damp pavement stage of the day - waking up but reluctantly but with the promise of a new day ahead; rather like himself when he'd been awoken by Robin's insistent text messages which had dragged him out of a rather glorious dream.  
At the tube station they took a train towards Cockfosters - it was relatively empty except for the bleary expressions of night workers making their way home and day shift workers making their way into work - it was difficult to determine which was which!  
"Where are we going?" he asked, his voice rumbling in time with the train.  
"Somewhere Ilsa won't think of looking!" Robin replied, "And hopefully we'll be gone all day, and be back far too late for her to be able to ambush you!"  
There was a glint in Robin's eyes and as Strike sat beside her he realised that wherever she was taking him would be the perfect place and way to spend his birthday.

After only 3 stops Robin rose and motioned for him to join her in alighting at the next stop.

"St Pancras?" he hissed as they made their way through the tiled tunnels and corridors.  
She merely nodded and checked they were heading in the right direction using the overhead signs.

She was leading him down the rather fancy and to his mind, over the top, selection of shops on the fancy concourse which resembled a shopping arcade. The distinctive frontage of Fortnum and Masons hove into view and he watched as she removed passports from her crossbody bag along with her phone.

She paused and turned to him, pulling her face into a grimace, but with amusement evident in her screwed up eyes.  
"OK, so......I reckon Ilsa will go to many lengths, but I figured leaving the country might be relatively safe.......you up for it?" and she flashed the pair of passports at him together with an impish pout of her lips.

"Are you serious?" he snorted, "You're taking me to Paris for the day just to avoid Ilsa Herbert?"

She nodded, her mouth set into a completely ridiculous, but also completely edible purse mouthed smirk.  
"What time are we leaving?" he asked, glancing at his watch and wondering whether he had time for a cup of coffee - the smell from one of the nearby vendors had wafted into his nostrils, and having only managed a lone cigarette since waking he was in need of something to occupy his tastebuds.

"We're on the 7 o'clock train, but we have to check in stupidly early......but we can grab a coffee."  
As was their default setting when drinking a hot beverage they discussed work cases easily - swapping ideas and suggestions, sharing new information and probably concluding more actual work than many would get through in an entire day.  
Having drained his cup of strong, sugary coffee, and demolished a ridiculously sticky pastry, pleasingly and appropriately called a yum yum, he hauled himself up, holding out a hand towards Robin.  
"Right then.....time for you to be initiated!" he quipped, waggling his dark brows as he ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth.  
Robin cast him a baffled look and wrinkled her mouth and brow.  
"You've never seen the palaver I cause getting through customs have you?" and he grinned broadly.  
Robin huffed and felt a blush to her cheeks - in all honesty she hadn't given it a thought; his leg was just part of everyday Cormoran now and she sometimes forgot his handicap completely.  
"Oh god! I'm sorry....I didn't think about that!" she pressed one palm to his upper arm, her expression one of embarrassment.  
But Robin was the one person who he felt comfortable with regarding his missing limb - she'd never made a big deal out of it and just carried on around him when it caused him grief.  
"It's fine.....but I warn you now we'll be stopped, and that thing we walk through will go berserk!" but he chuckled and draped one of his large, heavy arms across her shoulders, much to her combined delight and slight shock, "Life with me Ellacott is never dull!"

As predicted, the walk through arch's siren started flashing and wailing as soon as he walked through it, but the lop sided smirk he flashed her over his shoulder as the uniformed security began to frisk him somehow lit a spark within her - that had happened a few times since her birthday.......it was nice.  
Having pulled up his trouser leg and removed his prosthetic so that it could be sent through the luggage X Ray machine on one of the plastic trays it was deemed non threatening enough for him to replace.

"Told ya!" he mumbled as they were eventually able to make their way through into the departure area and the platform.  
They had allocated seats, based on her being able to request a seat suitable for disabled travellers - which gave Strike more legroom - something which he always found amusing given the fact that if anything he required less!

The train cabin was warm, and pressed against Robin in the snug seating meant that he was bombarded with the blissful aroma of her perfume. It gave him a frisson of arousal to know that he had selected it; and that she had asked him to make the final choice.....plus he really did like how it smelled, especially when she unwound her scarf and stood up to throw it and their coats onto the rack above their heads.  
He'd made the delightful mistake of glancing up at her and had caught sight of a small sliver of creamy skin and navy blue lace above the waistband of her jeans before she'd glanced down and caught his gaze.  
He swallowed and had the feeling that she knew exactly where his eyes had been focused, but she didn't seem alarmed, in fact if anything she seemed to angle herself closer to him as she sat back down and squirmed to make herself comfortable.  
"This is gonna be fun!" she stated and proceeded to take out her phone and start flicking through various apps and images she had stored on it.  
Strike let out a contented rumble of laughter beside her, of course she'd planned an itinerary for them....and of course it involved food!  
The additional bonus of allowing her to share her plans on her small screen was that they were required to press very close together, infact anyone entering the carriage, or walking along the centre aisle as the train set off would have easily mistook them for a loved up couple, sharing a comfortable easiness as they shared smiles, chuckles and alternated flicking their fingers across the screen.

The journey flashed by alarmingly quickly, and before they'd truly registered it they were pulling into the Gare du Nord. Allowing for the time difference it was just after 10 in the morning when they descended into the bowels of the station and located the correct platform to Chatelet.   
Strike enjoyed being beside Robin as they waited for the train; he enjoyed seeing her eyes light up with the various sights and sounds and smells of Paris.....albeit they could quite easily have been on the tube to Tottenham Court Road!  
"Have you been here before?" he asked her - somehow they hadn't covered that whilst discussing plans for the day.  
She shook her head and looked rather wistfully at a young couple who were unashamedly kissing just a short distance along the platform from where they were leaning. Strike followed her gaze and gave a slightly rueful curl to his lips.  
"No.....Matthew never wanted to go anywhere that wasn't hot, so........," and she trailed out her comment, knowing that further explanation wasn't necessary.  
"Well, it's my first time here too, so we can lose our virginity together," he quipped, and then hastily added, "That came out wrong....but you know...."  
He was blushing, and slightly flustered......it was really rather sweet she thought as she sniggered, her shoulders shaking with mirth.  
"Oh bloody hell!" he stammered, "Ou est the bastard train?" but he broke into a mirth filled chuckle himself as he met Robin's shining eyes.

Once the carriages rumbled up - much brighter and with larger windows than their London equivalents, but with a more complicated looking handle type arrangement rather than the automatic opening and closing ones they were used to - they were still giggling. The snogging couple drew breath long enough to alight the train and then resumed their thorough investigation of each others' tonsils and Robin and Strike did that whole, "Is this definitely the right train? Are we going the right way?" thing until they reached the next station and verified that they had indeed been able to locate the correct train by following the clearly marked signs and annotated maps.  
"Is it because it's French that I have the feeling it should be more complicated?" Robin whispered, sending a pleasing shiver down Strike's spine as they exited the train and made their way towards the stairs - sadly for Strike the Parisian Metro contained far more of those and far fewer lifts and escalators than the London Underground system.

"What time are we on that boat thing?" Strike asked as they blinked out into the watery, autumnal, Parisian sunshine.  
"We have to be there to board at 12.....but the good news is that you get to sit down for at least 2 hours!" she smiled.   
Maybe it was being in a foreign city, but she suddenly felt the need to keep Strike close to her, to feel his comforting bulk physically, so she threaded her arm through his and secured it there by clasping her other, gloved hand around it.  
Strike was momentarily taken aback, but he liked the sensation of her being close beside him and didn't pull away.   
He removed his cigarettes from his coat pocket and lit one, feeling that the swirling grey smoke he exhaled somehow 'belonged' in the city.  
"This is nice," he stated; and for a moment he wasn't sure himself whether he meant Paris, his fag or Robin beside him....maybe it was all three.

They meandered through the bustling streets in the vague direction of the Rue de Rivoli.  
They passed a plethora of street cafes before one was deemed suitable by Strike. In all honesty he had been reluctant to break the closeness of Robin pressing against him - it had felt incredibly 'right' to find her amber head just to the left of his chin, and he'd felt ten feet tall when several Parisian men had cast their eyes towards her and then him in a wordless acknowledgement of "Vous jammy basterd anglais!"  
A gush of what could only be called gusset ruining warmth had spread through her when her large partner had requested coffees and an ashtray in fluent French from the lithe, tattooed waiter.  
"What?" he'd flashed her a slightly smug grin, fully aware that he'd scored massive 'man points' be being able to order in French!  
"You're a man of many talents Mr Strike!" she chuckled and tucked her feet around the leg of their table, hunching towards him and pulling out her phone.  
"Oh....here we go!" she stated, waggling the screen at him.  
"Ilsa?....or is is Pat wondering where the hell we are?" he asked, casting a casual "Merci Monsieur" as their drinks were brought across.  
He lit a further cigarette and considered that this was indeed the perfect way to spend his birthday.  
Robin shook her head and swiped her screen, "Pat should know by now that we are out of the office all day - I emailed her. However Ilsa is apparently wondering why you aren't answering your phone."  
Strike fumbled in his pocket, mumbling, "I put it on silent on the bloody train...haven't switched it back on. Am I gonna get bombarded?" he asked, directing the second half of his comment towards Robin before realising that she was resting her feet on top of his prosthetic foot beneath the table.  
When he switched his phone back on it spent several minutes pinging and buzzing as a ludicrous number of messages pulled through.  
"Eleven!" he laughed, giving Robin an incredulous, but warm glare, "Bloody hell......I'm a grown man, can she not cope with knowing my every move? Any other day she doesn't give me a second thought.....I could be lying comatose at the foot of my stairs, but today, I don't answer my phone for an hour and she thinks I'm dead!"

Robin sipped her coffee, enjoying the dinky size and bitterness and feeling remarkably French as she sat beside Cormoran's slightly shambolic but self assured bulk as he puffed smoke from his nostrils.  
Strike tapped out a message to Ilsa and then made a symbolic gesture of switching off his phone infront of Robin. "There....officially skiving for the day!" he announced.  
Before he placed it back into his pocket however he flicked it back on and threw his arm around the back of Robin's chair. He clasped her shoulder and dragged her closer, holding his phone out to take a selfie, "Just for posterity!" he stated as their faces were reflected in the screen.  
Robin picked up her own phone and whimpered as Strike moved away from her, "Come back....I want one too," she pouted, and snapped several pictures.

Having drunk their coffees Strike curled his finger to attract Robin's attention. His breath was hot on her cheek, "How am I supposed to pay for this in French money?" he asked.  
Robin reluctantly pulled away and rummaged in her bag. "I came prepared!" she stated, and handed him several of the Euro notes she had changed over the day before.  
Squinting at the bill he placed down a five and caught her gaze, "Stop staring, I don't need glasses yet it's just printed really feint!"  
She giggled as she got up, "Well, you know....you're a forty year old man now!" she shook her head as he got up and adjusted his coat, tucking his cigarettes and matches back into his cavernous pockets.  
"Watch it Ellacott," he smirked, "I'm still strong enough to lob you in the Seine!"  
The matched each others' strolling gait towards the Louvre pyramid and the gardens of the Tuileries which were cast in a pleasant glimmer of sunlight and to Strikes delight a flurry of tourist souvenir touts made Robin huddle up to him. Their slightly aggressive manner made him feel completely justified in wrapping his arm around her shoulders to steer her safely away from them, holding his hand up and glowering added to his overall threatening manner, and a small part of Robin fluttered as she felt his calm, masculine presence - she would of course have to say several hail Mary's to the goddesses of feminism later.....but she'd been without a male presence in her bed for a long time!  
Having made the decision to embrace her he was reluctant to let go, but felt he should at least make an attempt, however he felt her soft hair brush against his cheek and her hand clutched at the nearest lapel on his coat.  
Glancing down she met his gaze, "OK?" he asked softly and smiled back at her as she nodded and made a soft, delectable sound that made desire course through his veins.  
"We should try and find the quay thing for the bateau," she stated, "Shall we walk?"  
His rumbling "Mmmmm hmmmm," reverberated through Robin's body, and surely it wasn't her imagination that his hand on her shoulder was adjusting itself a little to pull her closer. "This is already a wonderful birthday you know!" he stated.  
"Good," Robin quipped, "You're only forty once!"


	2. Strike's puppy dog eyes are Robin's kryptonite!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, I know I said there would be 2 chapters, but sue me, I've decided this deserves a bit more!  
> Sorry about that!!!!  
> They have lunch on one of the boat cruises along the Seine, which is based on what me and Mr Hobbes did for our 10th Wedding Anniversary - it was fab! I've also added the hotel I stayed in!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've reformatted this chapter now - serves me right for trying to save time a typing directly into A03!  
> Thank you for the helpful suggestions for fixing it - I shall stick to my usual method of posting from now on!

They located the quay quite easily, although it was a bit more of a walk than Robin had thought, and she had noticed that Strike was leaning heavily on the metal rail as they descended yet more stone steps having walked up a couple of uneven flights on the other side of the bridge they needed to cross over.

"You OK?" she asked, "There's a few more stairs than I expected!"

Cormoran groaned a little beside her - he'd had to release his arm from around her shoulders in order to tackle the steps which was more annoying to him than the discomfort.

"You promised me I could sit down and have food brought to me for the next 2 hours at least....I'll cope!" and he flashed her an amused but wincing smirk as he reached the bottom and walked beside her towards the canopied jetty where a small group of other people were queuing.

They were handily placed beside the large wooden board detailing the cruise and the menus options.  
Robin indicated the package she had selected for them and Strike read aloud the food choices; salivating and making exaggerated growls as he reached the dessert options.  
"Can we get all four of those?" he grinned and noticed a little after they had moved forwards in the queue that a further list of drinks had been detailed along with the food choices.  
"Are they giving us booze too?"  
Robin cast him a glittering eyed nod, "It's France! I think it's almost a legal requirement to provide wine with everything.....I'm surprised we've been here for a few hours already and avoided any of the stuff!" 

They moved forwards again in the queue and Robin shuffled her phone out of her bag for the booking confirmation.  
"Erm, nom de Strike," Robin stammered a little self consciously having heard her partners almost perfect accent earlier.  
The attractive female scanned the QR code and checked her screen, "Oui, Monsieur et Madame Strike, s'il vous plait. Table numero vingt quatre. Bon appetit," she stated, moving onto the next in the queue as Robin tried to stop her rapidly blushing cheeks from bursting into flames.  
Beside her Cormoran cleared his throat and cast a rather seductively amused glance towards her, "Blimey! Didn't think a wife would be one of my birthday presents!"  
Robin let out the breath she'd been holding as a snorting laugh, thankful that he seemed to be taking the error on the part of the member of staff lightly.  
"The booking form was in French, I had to guess a few bits and I think I might have booked a table for two and only put your name in it......s'alright isn't it?" she asked as they wandered along, being directed by a huge number of serving staff towards a rather nice window table bearing the number 24.  
"It's fine," Strike laughed, but perhaps the slip with the names had unleashed some previously untapped side to him because he stood and assisted Robin as she removed her jacket before removing his own coat and handing both to one of the ever present and eager waiting staff. 

They'd barely settled themselves before two flutes of Champagne arrived at the table together with a small bowl of Chinese rice crackers and peanuts.  
Their table was relatively isolated, the cruise was clearly not fully booked out as several of the tables were not laid out for guests meaning that almost all of the mainly couples, and a few tables of 4 or 6 people had a decent window table offering a fabulous Parisian view. 

Strike waited until Robin picked up her glass before lifting his own and clinking it to hers. "Well, here's to one of the more inventive ways of avoiding old friends!" he suggested.  
Robin giggled, "Happy birthday Strike," she smiled and gulped a rather large mouthful of the sparkling wine - made necessary by realising that his knees were positioned either side of her own beneath the table and she'd just made contact with both against her thighs.  
"S'good," he nodded as he sipped the rather decent Champagne, "This could become a bit of a tradition you know.....drinking Champagne on our birthdays!"

Robin nodded and considered how glorious her own birthday had been.  
They'd spent the day choosing her perfume, drinking Champagne at The Ritz and then had ended up eating in a Tunisian restaurant before finishing off with a quick one (that had turned into three!) in The Tottenham.  
Strike had walked her to the tube and they'd shared a chaste and carefully signalled kiss to each others' cheek to end the evening. And now, here they were, just a few weeks later, glancing around as strangers settled themselves around tables, and feeling that they had somehow managed to nab the best looking, and most interesting person to share lunch with. 

As the bateau drifted off from its mooring an announcement was made over the speaker in French explaining their rough cruising time and some of the architecture and buildings they would pass. Meanwhile one of the diligent waitresses appeared with a delightful salad made from colourful strips of scorched sweet peppers drizzled with a silky oil dressing for Robin and a bowl of steaming French Onion soup topped with a crouton embellished with an obscene amount of melted cheese.  
Robin stifled her giggles as she felt his rumbling growl of delight vibrate through the floor and table. 

A bottle of white wine and a second of red was brought over to their table causing Robin to squeak and whisper hurriedly as another of the seemingly endless supply of waiting staff busied themselves opening the bottles, "I thought we were only getting a glass not a whole bloody bottle!"  
Strike waggled his eyebrows and grinned in the most impishly boyish manner she'd ever seen, "Oh well, looks like I'm getting a drunk wife for my birthday!"

Robin kicked out at him beneath the table but hit the metal pin in his leg causing a loud, metallic clang and them both to start sniggering and shaking rather childishly as the poor waiter, who could only have been about 16 and barely capable of shaving, tried to encourage Strike to taste the wine before giving up on "le couple anglais ridicule!" pouring a glass of the red for him and a glass of the white for Robin and departing. 

Strike had stuffed his fist into his mouth as he attempted to stop laughing, Robin was directing her tear streaked eyes out of the window, knowing that if she so much as glanced at her partner she'd start laughing again , especially as he kept tapping his spoon against the metal casing of the window just as she was beginning to pull herself together.  
"Oh stop it!" she sobbed, "My tummy is hurting now and I'll wee if you don't pack it in.....plus your soup's getting cold!" 

The concept of his food going to waste spurred Cormoran into inhaling and clearing his throat before casting his 'this is a serious case and a serious client, don't laugh' face at her....it was the one she'd last seen when Irene Hickson had let rip a thunderous fart during their questioning of her.  
He quickly wiped his spoon on his napkin before removing the heavily slathered piece of crusty bread and sinking his teeth into the glorious combination of melted Gruyere cheese and onion infused underside squidge, "Cworrr.....OK, I have officially decided, I wish to be served this every day of our sham marriage!"  
Robin picked up her own fork and dabbed at her eyes, sniffing to regain her composure and taking a sip from her white wine before becoming instantly jealous of the piece of stringy cheese Strike was attempting to coax from his moustache by using only his tongue.  
"That good?" he grunted, and it took a moment for Robin to realise he meant her roasted pepper salad rather than be a direct question about her feelings about his demolishment of food.  
"It's lovely," she replied....and maybe it wasn't just the food that matched that description. 

Several courses, and a couple of hours later they were sharing dessert plates - she'd gone for a combination of strawberry mouse, chocolate ganache filled cake and fresh mint ice cream, he had opted for a pecan tart served with a toffee and banana souffle and sticky salted caramel which he was seriously considering licking from the plate, but had been persuaded (rather easily actually) by a rather squiffy headed Robin to lick from her finger instead.  
He'd really enjoyed himself.  
This had been a completely perfect way to spend his landmark birthday, and he couldn't help but think that those that followed it would always suffer by comparison.  
And now, desperately wishing it was possible to scrape more caramel sauce from his empty plate....or failing that, seriously considering asking one of the waiter for a jug of the stuff he was slightly glum at the thought of this little corner of intimacy for them ending.  
She was meeting his gaze quite a bit, and not looking away.....in any other woman he'd read her signals perfectly well.  
But this was Robin.....his best mate. 

Tiny cups of treacly coffee had arrived along with a plate of small truffles. As she allowed one to melt on her tongue he bit down on a second of his own.  
"So what's next in our amazing Parisian adventure?" he asked, flicking his eyes to her lips which were wearing a delicious looking chocolate lipstick.  
Robin swallowed the orangey chocolate gloop and pressed her napkin to her lips as she glanced at her wristwatch.  
"Well, I suppose we should consider making our way back towards Gare du Nord....we could stop off at Notre Dame on the way maybe? There's that whole palaver thing with your leg to deal with at the station again......and this time in French!" she smirked but then froze seeing a flash of what she thought was annoyance behind his eyes.  
She was about to ask if he was OK when he reached across the table and grasped her hand, "Do we have to go back? I'm liking playing hooky in Paris....and my birthday isn't over yet! Couldn't we find a hotel or something......go back tomorrow?" he was wheedling, his fingers teasingly tickling her palm as he pulled a hang dog expression which he knew from his desperate quests to get her to agree to giving him one more biscuit from the packet always worked! 

Robin hated that she couldn't resist his puppy-dog eyes look - she had a feeling that he'd worked out it was her Kryptonite - but she huffed and tried to look stern, "The Eurostar tickets are for tonight....and they're non-refundable....I think," and she pulled out her phone, ignoring the fact that there were at least 14 new notifications.  
She brought up details of the train tickets and scrolled down to the small print....actually she could cancel and change to an alternative train for only £15 each ticket and the difference in the train if the alternative was more expensive.

He'd withdrawn his hand from hers, much to her chagrin, but actually it really wasn't wise to dwell on his hands.....she had spent rather a long time fantasising about this large, swarthy and capable hands.  
"We'd have to find a hotel," she replied, enjoying the wide smile on his face reflected in the window as well as directed towards her - it was just slightly too mesmeric and intoxicating to stare directly at. 

They departed the vessel and found a handy bench which was positioned within free wifi range of a small cafe. Both he and Robin tapped away on their devices, searching known hotel booking sites first and sharing puffed out cheeked exclamations at the prices of what was available and the fact that anything more modest was booked out.  
After about twenty minutes Strike made a small 'Ooooo' shape with his mouth and tapped Robin on the arm as he held his phone up to his ear, "Might have something. Quite central. Not too steep. Only two rooms left I think," he stated, keeping his comments short in case the call was answered.  
Robin twisted around on the bench, her knee pressing against his as she bent it across in front of her.  
It was obvious when the phone was picked up and again Strike moved almost seamlessly into his rather knicker wettingly sexy French. Robin had the barest grasp of the language, but even she could make out 'chambres' and 'deux personnes' and 'une nuit' and he was nodding and giving her the thumbs up as he verified a price which she couldn't follow, but heard him say 'Euros' in that french manner, making it sound like 'oooowrow'.  
Apparently satisfied and sorted he hung up and ignored the alarming number of notifications on every app on his phone - no doubt people he cared relatively little about wishing him birthday greetings.  
"Right, the nearest Metro is Pyramides, so let's go and sort that out and find where it is. I never thought I'd say this, but I don't think I could eat for a week!" and he hauled himself upright, belching and waiting for Robin to join him.  
Robin faked shock and horror, "Oh MY GOD!!!!! I've finally filled you up! I always thought you had hollow legs!" and bickering gently and good naturedly they wobbled their way along at a steady pace, matched as much to Strike's bloated belly and Robin's slightly blurry vision as to the fact that they only had three fully functional legs between them. 

After a further journey on the Metro - this time having to go fractionally out of the way to change lines - they came out back near the bustling Rue de Rivoli which was still filled with shoppers.  
Having tapped the hotel details into his phone they followed Google Maps, which despite still being considered a "Lying bastard" by her burly work pal was, he had to admit, pretty effective and only a short while and one wrong turn later (mainly because the French roads appeared to be angled in triangles at this part of the city!) they arrived at the Hotel Moliere which appeared remarkably smart and chic in a Parisian trendy way from the foyer.  
Strike held the door for her and followed after, heading directly for the reception desk. Robin glanced around and spotted the ladies loo, indicating her need to vacate her bladder. 

When she emerged Strike was slumped slightly across the counter, his lip pouting like a petulant pug.  
"What's up? Did you balls it up? Are we in the wrong Hotel Moliere? Have you actually booked us rooms at the Hotel Moliere in Mykonos?" she asked, trying to coax a smile from him.  
He shook his head and groaned, "No, this is the right hotel," he stated, rubbing his thumb and fingers across his ridged brow as she had seen him do frequently when frustrated by a case. "This is the correct hotel, and we have a fabulous room with a roof terrace, and they'll even throw in a bottle of bubbly.....because of the.......confusion!" he raised his brows and pierced her with a look that perfectly mixed terror with hope.  
"Ooooh, a roof terrace!" Robin squealed, latching onto quite the wrong part of his statement.  
He paused waiting for her brain to catch up.  
"Hang on," she stated (there it was!) "What do you mean we have 'a' room?" she added the air quotes.  
He continued to pout and nodded, "I said deux personnes....I meant deux chambres.....they haven't got deux chambres.....and they have already taken payment for une chambre pour deux personnes....and they haven't got un autre!" he explained, forgetting his French accent on this occasion as he lapsed into franglais. 

Robin regarded him, looking rather rumpled and annoyed, and quite seriously perfect. "Still," she sniffed, "Good news about the bubbly!" and swiped up the small wallet containing a plastic keycard, "And they've got a lift!" 

He made eye contact with the French female behind the desk, who apparently had a better grasp of English, and body language, than he'd given her credit for and limped, almost zombie-like across to Robin, who was holding the doors to the lift for him.  
The thought crossed his mind as they slid closed that at least they were on the third floor, and his mind wouldn't have to contend with the added concept of 'Going down'  
....by his side, Robin was twisting her lip between her teeth, looking the picture of glorious, amber haired coquettish beauty. 

Oh Jesus....his equilibrium was completely fucked!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, OK......i will continue this.....maybe a rating change too......


	3. Seriously over thinking the folding of knickers!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, there was only one room.....and it has only one bed.......but Strike has a plan to make it work - shame he is so sleepy! Although quite how he managed to drift off with THAT particular moody hat wearing chap on screen....speaking French (there is a very cute clip of Santi and Tom reacting to their dubbed counterparts!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hotel Moliere is the actual hotel I stayed at in Paris, and the room in question is the Terrace room on the website - again, the one I stayed in for several days a few years ago for my 10th wedding anniversary!......and Mr Hobbes was really flummoxed by the sliding bathroom door!

The journey up to the third floor was, unusually for them, carried out in slightly awkward silence.  
Finally as the lift stopped and they waited for the doors to shudder open Strike broke the silence,  
"The receptionist said she'd send someone up to turn the bed into 2 singles....so......," and he trailed out leaving the implication that they at least wouldn't have to share a bed hanging in the air.  
Robin had nodded and exited first following the arrows indicating that their room was to the left.

"I don't know about you, but all that food and an early start, I'm bushed. I'll probably crash out as soon as my head hits the pillow anyway!" she laughed as they came to their door and tapped the coded keycard to enter.

The room itself was completely gorgeous.   
A door to the right on entry contained the lavatory and a small hand basin. A powerful swooshing extractor fan came on as soon as the light was activated which calmed both of them a little - although heaven knows why considering the fact that they'd shared a toilet in the office for years now!

There were two sets of slightly weirdly sized French doors leading out to a small, wooden decked roof terrace, complete with glass topped table and rattan effect easy chairs.  
The bed was currently a massive double replete with plumped pillows, scatter cushions and a tasteful throw.   
Over to the side there was an ornate table containing a silver tray of bottled water, organic apple juice and a small box of chocolates and upon opening the tall wooden cabinet beside it Strike discovered one of the fancier coffee pod machines together with various teas, although he tutted at the fact that they were mainly herbal ones.  
"Kumquat and mandarin!" he held up the offending orange sachet and shook his head at Robin's sparkling gaze.

If there wasn't the issue of having to share hanging heavy in the air between them he would have enjoyed seeing her barely contained delight at the sumptuousness of the surroundings.

He ducked his head inside the bathroom; which was as fancy and pristine as he'd imagined and contained a huge shower area rather than a tub as well as a large sink with plenty of free toiletries including he was pleased to notice bamboo toothbrushes, paste and even a razor.  
"Right, I'm going to christen that," he indicated the roof area and rummaged in his pocket to extract his cigarettes and matches.  
Robin nodded and having 'oooo'd' at the flashiness of the bathroom followed him out, clambering a little ungainly but effectively onto the secluded space.

Strike flopped down in one of the chairs and inhaled deeply, he flicked out his phone and signed into the wifi using the code on their keycard recognising that he really should respond to at least some of his birthday wishes - at least the one from Ted....and probably Lucy and Nick if he was being generous.  
Robin wandered to the edge of the terrace and held onto the railing, peering left and right; a contented smile lighting up her face.   
It was a look that Cormoran had only seen a few times....he called it Robin's 'true happiness' expression and on this occasion he was rather smug knowing that he was the cause of her pleasure....despite the fact that the whole sleeping thing was still an issue and as yet unresolved.

"This is completely fabulous," she stated wistfully, inhaling deeply and settling herself to rest her chin on her folded arms, staring out at the bustle of Paris and the Haussmann style architecture of the buildings around them.  
He had to admit, it was a pretty perfect location and the ideal hotel for a future, more planned visit to explore more of the city....although it would only feel as perfect as this spur of the moment trip this one time!

Robin's mind wandered to more practical thoughts as she took in the scene before her and though about the small number of things she had brought with her in her crossbody bag. She had a lipbalm and a comb, chewing gum and a random selection of headache and indigestion tablets.  
She wordlessly went back inside and seconds later poked her head out of the doors, regarding Strike's languid, smoke shrouded body - his eyes were almost closed.

"Erm.....would you be freaked out by the sight of my knickers on the towel rail in the bathroom?" she asked.  
Strike's eyes opened wide and he pouted his lips, considering whether that was a combination of words he'd ever heard before in that particular sequence.

"No! Why?" he answered, twisting around slightly to make eye contact with her.

"Well, there are long robes in the bathroom and I could murder a shower, so.....if I dunk my undies and bung them on the heated towel rail I reckon they'll be dry in an hour or so.....and I can put them back on before we go out later....I assume we will do because although you claim to be full now I know you too well!" she clarified and watched as he considered her suggestions and wordlessly acknowledged her practicality.

"Good plan...I might just rest my eyes for a bit....wait for Mademoiselle from the foyer to arrive with our sheets! I'll just have another of these first," he indicated his cigarettes and smirked at her shrug and smile.  
He then tried to steady his inhalations of smoke whilst considering that Robin would be undressing and covering herself in scented shower products and then wrapping herself, naked, in one of the fluffy robes.....and when she reappeared in said robe he'd KNOW she was knickerless beneath it.   
His mind flashed back to earlier on the train, that little sliver of navy blue lace he'd seen above her jeans waistband.   
He wondered whether the whole thing would be lace?   
Would they be those ones that looked like shorts and displayed little peachy bum cheeks? Or would they be a thong type that left even less to the imagination? Or maybe, knowing Robin, they'd be a nice practical navy cotton with just a flash of lace at the top.   
He stubbed out his second cigarette at the filter and groaned himself upright, "Stop thinking about your work colleague's knickers you pervy fucker," he mumbled as he held onto the window casing and bent himself through the doors.   
The door to the bathroom was now closed and he could hear a torrent of water.  
He realised that there were windows running along the dividing wall behind the bed and the bathroom, about six inch deep panels of glass, at ceiling height and he saw that swirling steam was visible behind them.  
"Don't even think about it!" he admonished himself as his basal brain considered that he could easily stand on the bed and see into the shower!

To distract himself he went over to the coffee machine and popped in one of the dark roast pods to make himself a rather decent cup of coffee. He restricted himself to 2 of the sugar sachets and made a mental note to pick some more up from a cafe when they went out later.  
He then removed his coat, jumper and boot, and after a brief consideration, also removed his leg before lying back against the pillows on the bed.  
He replied to Ted's birthday message and explained that he was having a great day in Paris as a surprise in order to escape from Ilsa.   
Ted replied with a laughing face emoji.  
He fired off relatively neutral, but grateful messages to his sister, thanking her for the cards and gifts which had arrived a day earlier then set aside his phone and folded his arms across his still full belly.   
He'd taken the opportunity of his second cigarette to rid himself of a quantity of wind and his belt felt a little more comfortable, but he still maintained that he wouldn't be able to eat much later on.  
He considered this as he turned on the small TV and flicked through the channels, stopping on a dubbed version of British show he recognised from a few years back.   
This particular episode featured the moody hat wearing one of the quartet being almost seduced by a rather beautiful honey coloured feisty lady.   
He watched and listened to the unfamiliar, deep French dubbing for a few moments before feeling his eyes drift closed again.

He'd just rest them for a few minutes.

When Robin emerged from the bathroom, having blow dried her hair, (thankful that she had a relatively easy style that only really required directing the jet of hot air across it in a straight line from root to tip) and cleaning her teeth she did a slight double take.

Strike had snuggled himself down on top of the bed, his lips were softly rippled as he breathed deeply and steadily, his eyes shut tight.   
She took in the TV and sighed at the leather clad masculinity that seemed even sexier somehow when they began speaking in French, although the names of Porthos, Athos and Aramis where still clear enough.  
She was in the process of considering her options - there was a small armchair in the room, or she could go out onto the terrace (but that might be a bit draughty!) - when there was a soft knock at the door.

She winced, but Strike didn't stir.

Opening the door she was greeted by the friendly receptionist pushing a trolley containing bedding and carrying a bottle of Champagne, a silver ice bucket and 2 stemmed flutes.  
Robin held up her finger and grimaced in the universal communication of "ooops, slight problem!" before indicating her sleeping partner on the bed.  
The slender, typically Gallic receptionist nodded and withdrew sharing a silent little giggle with Robin.

"I should maybe not do the bed now?" she suggested.

Robin shrugged and agreed, "Later?" she suggested.

A raised eyebrow smile was flashed back as the receptionist took in Robin's bathrobe clad state and clearly put what she believed was 2 and 2 together and came up with about 106, "Mebeee!" she stated and then winked as she handed across the Champagne and glasses before departing.

Robin tried to prevent the bottle and glasses from making too much sound as she placed them on the table beside the apple juice and still intact box of chocolates - Christ, Strike really was full!

She dragged the armchair across closer to the bed so that she could stretch her bare legs across the part of the bed not currently occupied by her slumped, rumbling partner. She picked up her phone and poured some of the bottled apple juice into a glass along with one of the ice cubes from the bucket and settled down to start responding to texts, including the inevitable one to Ilsa about their whereabouts.  
She knew Ilsa had actually only arranged a small get together at her house with a take away curry and a plan of some daft board games, just the 4 of them, so she knew nothing would spoil particularly, although when she opened one image showing a homemade cake - slightly wonky and all the more perfect because of it's imperfections - she clasped her hand to her mouth and made an audible 'awww' sound.   
So engrossed was she in responding that she didn't notice that Strike had woken up.  
He pushed himself up on his elbows, dragging one hand across his stubbled chin and hair, creating yet another in the array of shambolic but somehow making it work hair styles he sported.  
"What you going awwwww at?" he asked, making her jump slightly.

He was a little annoyed that he hadn't taken more of an opportunity to watch her unseen before making his consciousness known.   
Her legs were incredibly long and lean.....and smooth....and stretched right up and beneath the hem of the white towelling robe…...which presumably was only covering her now sweetly scented and naked nether regions.

Having taken a deep breath - the way his sleepy eyes were trailing up her legs made her slightly giddy - she replied, “Hi Sleepy Head! It’s Ilsa…..she made you a birthday cake, might not be any left by the time we get back,” and she flashed the screen around to show him the gooey, chocolaty cake which also meant that she swung her legs down from the bed.  
Strike leaned across and peered at the cake, “That’s quite sweet actually…..I’m pleased she hadn’t planned anything that will spoil though - I suppose I should have thought it through before we did this,” he indicated the room around them.

“We can always go back now if you want….I’m sure we can get on a train if we wait,” she said, although every fibre of her body image willed him to refuse.

He stretched his shoulders, resulting in a sound which reassembled a puppy rolling on bubble wrap and swung his one and a half legs to the side of the bed.  
“Nah….I’m in desperate need of a shower though,” he stated and reached for his prosthetic, quickly reattaching it over the fabric cuff which he’d left on earlier.   
She was doing that thing with her hair where she flipped it around to one side of her neck….it exposed her elegant clavicle and neck and also drew attention to the silken honey-gold of her beautiful hair.  
Shit, I’m gonna need it to be a cold one he thought as he watched her reflection in the mirror before limping a little unevenly over to the shower room.

He went inside and his head appeared rather rapidly, a bemused expression on his face.  
Robin assumed he had seen her knickers drying, “I warned you they’d be on the towel rail!” she exclaimed, but he glanced over his shoulder, made a grunt and a rather esteem boosting ripple of his nose and lips before shaking his head.

“Nah….I didn’t mean them,” he gestured towards the navy shorts spread out on the rail, he made a mental note that the style meant she would indeed have those delectable peachy bum cheeks on display when they were adorning her arse rather than the heated metal rail, “There should be a door!” he pointed at the opening and the fact that the piece of wood to fill it did not appear to be open in the bathroom as he’d assumed.

Robin sniggered and padded over to him.  
She located the small, brass hook in the wall and pulled, revealing that it was actually a sliding door which went back into the partition wall to save space.  
He gave a satisfied and impressed nod as he pulled the thing across, securing it on the inside.

When he appeared, in an almost Saturday Night television-esque cloud of billowing steam from behind the sliding door, Robin had her knees tucked up under her and she was clearly sorting something on her phone - her purse and credit card was loose on the bed covers.

She glanced up and caught her breath a little - he was wearing his trousers but had the rest of his clothes in his hand, his chest bare and as hirsute as a gorilla, in a very pleasing and masculine way.

“I’m gonna dry off and hang this up a bit,” he pulled one of the hangers out of the cabinet and deftly draped his t shirt and grey, long sleeved shirt over it, hanging both over the shower head where they could get the benefits of the steam from his long shower.  
His cigarettes were still out on the terrace and he quickly walked out to enjoy one almost before Robin could react to his single bare foot and booted prosthetic combination.

It made her smile to feel that he wasn’t self conscious around her any more with regards to his leg - she supposed given the fact that she’d used it to knock out John Bristow and therefore potentially save his life had removed some of it’s mystique!

She smiled and went through to the bathroom herself, intending to check on her knicker situation and get re dressed. She was forced to stop abruptly however when her own navy blue knickers were no longer where she had left them; in their place was a pair of damp, crinkled polka dot covered boxer shorts in a rather jaunty shade of turquoise.

Two things triggered in her brain, firstly (to her shame!) the fact that Strike was clearly barefoot on a Parisian roof terrace, smoking and going commando, and secondly (which really SHOULD have been firstly!!) that he’d clearly moved her undies.

Cormoran had handled her knickers!  
The fact that she hadn’t been in them at the time was neither here nor there, but the effect on her most intimate regions was about as primal as it got.

The first cigarette ‘didn’t touch the sides’ as it were, and he quickly lit up a second, using the first to ignite it.   
He’d known that walking around without half his clothes could have been construed as ‘dangerous territory’....but he was being practical and he factored in that Robin was practical and sensible, so she’d get it!  
However he had rather enjoyed the little flare to her pupils that had been evident….that was stored away to be revisited at some point in his eidetic memory!

But touching her underwear had been another issue entirely.

It had felt incredibly erotic, even though he had merely removed the small piece of dark blue fabric, folded it neatly in half , smoothed out the creases and placed it on the dry side of the sink unit.   
He’d then smoothed out a further wrinkle in the soft, almost satiny fabric…..and then he’d made a purposeful further disruption to the material as he over thought the whole thing - he didn’t want her to think he’d been stroking her pants too much to make them look as perfect and crease free as he’d made them.  
He’d even considered leaving them in a haphazard heap, as if he’d just dragged them and discarded them, but the sight and though of that had a totally different effect on him and he decided that neat but with a few creases was better than resembling recently discarded and thrown to the floor in passion!

He had thought her idea for creating ‘clean’ underwear was very valid, and if he was going to sleep in his own he had to run the gauntlet of being pantless now….and somehow his brain considered that if he was shirtless Robin might be more likely to be focusing there rather than on his unrestrained masculinity beneath his trousers!

He smoked a third cigarette, turning and exhaling through his nostrils as she reappeared, wearing her jeans and top, she too was bare footed which he smiled at.

“Sorry, I moved your pants,” he stated.

“Not a problem,” she smiled, “Are you not freezing out here?”

He shrugged and indicated his copious chest hair, “Naturally insulated! Are you thinking we should go back out and find somewhere for a drink or…..?”  
His voice trailed out as he bent across to deposit his cigarette stub in the ashtray, creating a rather pleasing ripple to his stomach muscles (yes...muscles, the vegetarian bacon had bombed, but swimming had turned out to be a pleasing weekly ritual for him!)

Robin tried to avert her gaze, but her eyes were literally mesmerized by the trail of hairs that disappeared beneath his trousers, and the small, hard nipples nesting in the thick mat - natural insulation of not, his nips were like bullets!

“I’m not ridiculously hungry, but we should really go and do something if we’re here for the evening, otherwise…..what’s the point?” she asked, unaware of how loaded a question it was.

Strike had been asking himself repeatedly what it was that had made him suggest them staying the night.   
The day HAD been perfect….truly epic in terms of enjoyment, banter, companionship, and dare he add, flirtation.  
He truly had made an error over the booking - although with hindsight he really should have worked out that the price he paid for the room and location would NEVER have been enough for two rooms!  
And now they were here - and the receptionist hadn’t turned up to sort the beds out yet…..and part of him (a filthy and horny and punchable part) kind of wanted her to go off her shift and forget!

“Well, we saw the Eiffel Tower and loads of other stuff on the boat thing. What about we head over to Notre Dame and then go across the river to the Latin Quarter? I think there’s a bit of a relaxed buzz and we can probably find a bar or something, maybe just a pizza later on?” he suggested.

Robin smiled and nodded, she went back to her previous pose of resting her chin on her crossed arms on the railing, which had the additional effect of making her bottom stick out, and now that Strike knew exactly what was covering that arse it was rather difficult to avert his gaze.

“I think that sounds bloody marvellous!” she turned, facing him square on, eyes playful.   
He had the feeling, a bit like when she’d caught him looking at her as she put their coats on the train rack, that she knew EXACTLY what he was thinking.

He got himself dressed and presentable while she made a few tweaks to her face - she’d tried to not ruin her make up as she washed her hair and although she knew she’d have to be make up free in the morning for now she made do with swiping under her eyes and adding a little of the body moisturiser from the bathroom to the tips of her fingers, tapping it across her cheeks to add a little glow.  
With a little shriek as she slid her feet into her zip up boots she rummaged into the side pocket of her small bag and triumphantly located a tiny sample sized vial of perfume.  
As Strike closed up the window, door things and grabbed his coat he inhaled the perfectly Robin aroma which he always felt ownership of, having been the one to make the final selection.  
“I got a freebie when I gave it a review online!” she explained as she replaced the black stopper in the bottle and tucked it back in her bag.

“Perfect!” he stated, “Come on Madame, let’s do Paris by night!”

They were in the foyer when Robin realised she’d left her purse and cards on the bedside table, “I was using them to sort out the tickets, I won’t be a sec,” and she’d dashed back up to the room, leaving Strike to wait in the foyer.  
The same female appeared at the reception desk and he wandered over, casually remarking that the bed was still made up as a grand lit and she’d said it could be turned into two petit lit.

“Ah oui Monsieur, mais Madame a dit que ce n’etait pas necessaire,” she replied, before clicking together several pieces of computer printed paper with a hand stapler.

“Did she now?” Strike stated under his breath.

Not necessary!  
Not fucking necessary!!!

Oh fuck….and now he had to stroll through dark, romantic Parisian streets with her, knowing that she was wearing a pair of navy blue lace knickers….and knowing that he was wearing none…..and that they’d be sharing a bed upon their return.

He was mentally willing his body to behave when a waft of Narcisso penetrated his nostrils and almost reversed his calming breaths.

“I’m ready?” she stated, meeting his rather subtle, but penetrating gaze.

“You sure?” he asked and felt that the nod she gave back was of agreement possibly to all of the scenarios he was running through his head.

As she moved through the door he held open for her she had the feeling that perhaps she’d agreed to way more than the possibility of pizza and a couple of glasses of wine.


	4. Les amoureux!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is growing!!!!  
> THIS is why I really, really have so much esteem for folks who can write short, beautiful 100 word epics.....I just can't even do a single bladdy chapter!  
> So, this is the evening in the Latin Quarter. I really enjoyed finding a little French play on words/mix up type thing - and it almost turned into a 'We have the best Conversations' chapter!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chocolate shop is again based on one I stumbled across in the Latin Quarter and me and Mr Hobbes were given a ridiculous number of freebies because I was chattering in French and helping 2 other English people buy choccies and get them gift wrapped!

Robin had threaded her arm through Cormoran's as they exited the Metro and crossed over onto the other side of the Seine, and it had felt ridiculously natural for him to let it slip into his hand as they had made their way along the somewhat busy pavements, him leading and frequently checking back over his shoulder that she was OK and able to keep up without being bashed around too much.

"It's like London in rush hour!" she grinned when the crowds thinned a little and they were able to walk alongside each other again - neither repositioned or released their softly entwined fingers though.  
Something about wandering around Parisian back streets in the darkness, lit by the lights of shops and cafes made the whole hand holding thing feel right - in fact Robin had considered that it would have felt more unnatural to not have physical contact with Cormoran at this point.

They found an amazing chocolate shop filled with all manner of colourful, speckled candied eggs, each flavoured with something amazing.   
Both gave the almost required 'Bonjour Madame' to the proprietor, which meant that of course as Robin took a small bag and began filling it, they were offered several free samples, swapping them after a bite each to ensure they could sample all of the flavour options.

Satisfied with her selection (Strike naturally disagreeing and stating that she'd only selected enough for a snack!) she waited whilst Madame behind the counter did the usual thing of adding a fancy ribbon, placing the bag within a second bag, and adding a small box, large enough to contain a couple of chocolates, which she wrinkled her nose and stated was , "Parfait pour deux amoureux!"

Leaving the shop Robin turned to Strike, "What does armeure mean?"

He gave her a wrinkled glance, "Erm, I think it is something to do with ships....why?"

Robin wished she had more than schoolgirl French at her disposal, the lady in the shop had looked rather mischievous as she'd placed the additional little 'freebie box' into the bag, "Nothing, just we got a little box free....and based on what I think she said it presumably has something to do with ships!"

They nodded and continued along one of the cobbled streets, which were thankfully free of cars, although small vespas and bicycles were quite plentiful - however it meant Cormoran had had a legitimate reason to pull Robin around her shoulders out of the way of one of the said, bell tinkling things....and his arm had just happened to remain there.

"Maybe they're salted caramels," she mused, sniffing and leaning a little closer to the aroma of tobacco and shower gel emanating from her incredibly warm and solid partner.

Strike gave a rumbling grunt beside her, momentarily confused about the statement, "Oh, the chocolates? Yeah, suppose so, salt....sea....boats! Maybe! Fancy a drink?"  
Robin nodded and they found a miniscule table outside one of the many bistro type premises.

As with all Parisian eateries the tables were tiny, not much larger than a dinner plate; and crammed close together in a way that rendered the one behind Strike when seated to be unusable.  
Ashtrays were visible on each table, and several of the other outside clientele were smoking, so Strike felt happy lighting up himself.

As they waited for a waiter to arrive Strike's mind returned to the ship related chocolate, "Why don't you have a look and see if my guess was right about the free choccies!"

Robin smirked, "I thought you being full was too good to be true - you just want one don't you?" she grinned as she located the little navy blue box and popped the lid, making a soft 'oooo' sound.

"What? Was I right?" he asked, doing that sitting up and leaning forwards a bit thing in order to imply that he wanted to see for himself.  
She tilted it in his direction, revealing 2, dark chocolate shiny love heart shaped chocolates, spattered with red decorations.

He wrinkled his lips and narrowed his gaze, "When you said armeure could she have actually said amoureux?"

Robin gave one of her trademark tongue clicks before opening her mouth and nodding, "Yeah....that could be it....why, does that mean heart?"

"Something like that," he grinned before reaching for one and popping it whole into his mouth, biting down, slurping and making an animalistic growl. "Salted caramel inside though....I claim a moral victory!"

Robin stifled her desire to lean across and lick the slight dribble of gooey caramel and chocolate which had found its way to his lip.  
The arrival of the waiter caused enough of an interruption to stabilise her swirling thoughts about how much she wanted to fall into his beautiful, and slightly more dilated than usual, green eyes.  
Again he took charge and requested a 50cl pichet of white wine, preferably a Tourraine and asked for a Ricard for himself.

When it arrived Robin was momentarily startled, "What on earth are you drinking?"

"French beer isn't beer....it's lager, and when in France...." he indicated several occupied tables around, all of which were decorated with the same tall glasses of cloudy liquid and carafes of water as had been delivered to him.  
The aniseed flavour was one which he enjoyed - especially with the flavour of tobacco, plus he didn't want to risk filling himself with more fizzy gas which he'd then have to expel later!

Inevitably their discussion turned to work and they had a pleasant time, reminiscent of after work drinks in The Tottenham except that the wine was definitely cheaper!  
The little bistro served a selection of fairly standard, slightly touristy but decent fayre and as the external heaters and lights were switched on they asked for menus.

"Are you having snails?" he asked watching her wrinkled expression.

"Do I have to?" she asked.

Strike grinned, "Course you don't. You can have whatever you want, but I am going for 'em while we're here, and I think a steak frites is pretty much a pre requisite isn't it?" and he waggled his eyebrows lasciviously.

She giggled and shook her head, "You were too full to contemplate food earlier! Bloody hell, a quick lie down and a couple of odd cloudy drinks and you're back to default setting!"

When the waiter arrived he placed his order and also asked for a half bottle of red wine, he selected a Borgueil from the menu.   
Robin asked for an omelette au cepes and chips and sat back, feeling already replete in more ways than her belly.

When the platter or escargots arrives, slathered in herby butter, heavily laced with garlic and complete with a basket of sliced baguette Strike waggled his fingers in delight and efficiently clasped one of the shells with the weird squeezy holder thing and plucked out the meat before devouring it and dabbing at the garlicky butter with the bread.  
"Want one?" he asked, already tackling a second of the dozen shells and glancing over at Robin's expression - it was a mixture of horror and curiosity and reminded him of his own feeling when he'd watched her tucking into fish and chips in Skegness. "Come on, you eat mushy peas, what's wrong with one of these?" and he waggled the small chunk of greyish brown snail on his fork before tossing it into his mouth.

Robin wasn't a prude when it came to food, and she'd never tried them, "What do they actually taste like?"

Cormoran's eyes tilted up as he considered, "Honestly? They really do taste like you would expect a snail to taste....but they're not in any way unpleasant!"

Robin's nose wrinkled, "You're not exactly giving them a ringing endorsement," she stated, but inhaled deeply, "Go on then.....but just half of one in case I think it's disgusting!"

Strike gave her an approving glance and studiously removed a snail, using the fork to break off about half, dunk it in lots of the herby butter and hold it out for her, "Get a bit of bread ready 'cos you'll be wearing garlic butter lipbalm!"

Robin gave a teeny squeal as she leaned forwards and accepted Strike feeding her the morsel of food.   
He watched her intently as she ate, her expression one of mild disappointment if anything.

"Oh!" she stated, licking around her mouth, "It's a bit like a badly cooked bit of mushroom!"  
She dipped the piece of bread into the butter on the platter and swallowed it, "The garlic is fabulous!"

"Want the other half?" Strike skewered it and held the fork aloft, inadvertently biting his lower lip as her mouth advanced on the fork a second time.

She waved away further snails, but finished off one of the pieces of bread in the residue of butter on the platter until Strike batted her hand away in order to gigglingly wipe each of the indents before grunting his way through a massive bite of the remaining bread, offering the final piece across for Robin.  
Feeding her the bread made him think about the times he'd fed her toffees in the Land Rover especially as his finger tips had grazed against her lips.   
The difference however was that facing her across the table ensured that their eyes could lock . 

That hadn’t been his imagination…...she’d stared directly at him, her pupils were blown wide and she’d licked her tongue against his finger.  
….and she’d already told the woman in the hotel that separating the beds wasn’t necessary.  
Was there….possibly….the slightest…...smallest chance…...that she was…...into him?

Sadly he had no more snails or bread to try his luck again for now…..but the night was young!

His steak was bloody, and served with bearnaise sauce, and thankfully his request for ketchup was preempted when a condiments holder was delivered and placed on the vacant table beside them.  
Robin’s omelette was luscious and baveuse and they discussed how it was possible for a simple dish of cooked eggs to taste so much more delicious by default of being made and served in France.  
The general agreement being that this French version had not been frozen and defrosted and had instead been cooked in a proper pan, on a proper flame, with proper butter and proper seasoning.  
Strike helped himself to a large piece of the omelette which was a decent accompaniment to his steak.   
The red wine was a perfect choice and very decent indeed.

Robin admitted defeat on her food and considered the wine left in her pichet.  
“You do realise we’ve got a bottle of Champagne back at the room!” she stated.  
Strike hadn’t forgotten about it.

“We can take it home with us if you don’t fancy drinking it….give it to Ilsa to say sorry for ballsing up her plans for my birthday!”  
Robin smiled and shrugged at the idea.

They declined desserts when the waiter came and enquired whether they were “Terminée?” but Strike asked for an expresso and Robin a cappuccino.  
A further cigarette from Cormoran accompanied the hot drinks, and the bill came to a ridiculously low total considering the quality of food and wine consumed. He paid on his credit card but left a tip in Euros from the ones Robin had given him earlier.

“Back to the room?” he enquired as Robin sorted out her bag and buttoned her jacket.

She nodded, “Can we walk a little bit further though? Just go to one of the Metro stops further maybe?”

Strike’s leg was feeling OK, he hadn’t walked as much as he would usually do in a day working, and they had adopted a comfortable stroll around the city earlier in the evening, but he had definitely enjoyed their closeness.

“Yeah we can…..but I might need to lean on you a bit. I’m a forty year old man now don’t forget!” his tone was playful and warm.

To his slight surprise she immediately pressed close to him and slid her arm under his coat and around his waist.  
She peered up at him, “I’m stronger than I look you know!” she twinkled.

He allowed the arm she was pressed against to come up and drape around her shoulders, cupping her upper arm and tilting her briefly into his body before quickly remembering that he was pantless beneath his trousers.  
“Come on…...take me home Ellacott!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, the next bit will be Reader's Choice.  
> I have 2 next chapters for folks - one is fluffy and one very definitely isn't.  
> So, I shall post both - with very clear notes which is which!  
> Any you can choose which you fancy - or read both and decide which you prefer.  
> ......I just have to write the smutty one!


	5. THE FLUFFY VERSION

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, so this is the fluffy version of their shared bed experience - I sort of wasn't planning for this at all, but this was what came to be first and is a Teen and Up version of what might happen as they share that big bed.
> 
> This is a very sweet and cute Strellacot Sleepover with Cormoran being about as adorable as a 16 stone, hairy, one legged boi can be.

A combination of a slow stroll, a quick trip on the Metro and a few dozen more stairs brought them close to the hotel.  
Robin spotted a small tabac and dived inside with a purpose.  
Out of curiosity Strike bought himself a packet of a French brand of cigarettes, Robin added a small carton of ‘lait frais’ and a bottle of Evian to the counter.  
“What’s the milk for?” he asked as they ascended in the lift to their room.  
“You’ll find out in the morning,” Robin stated, flashing him an impishly perfect smile as they reentered the room.

She gave a small pout at the sight of the bed, “Oh! They haven’t sorted it,” she wiggled her fingers in the direction of the large bed, still rumpled from Strike earlier.

He gave her an amused side-eyes glare, “No they haven’t, I wonder why? I’ll ring down when I’ve had a pee,” and he disappeared into the toilet, covering the smirk of amusement on his face.

When he had flushed and rinsed his hands he discovered Robin had discarded her jacket and boots and was flopped back on the bed sipping water.  
He removed his coat and scarf, placing both on the armchair.

“Shall I call them then, see if someone can come……..?” he asked.

Robin pouted and wrinkled her nose, “I’m knackered now…...can we be arsed? It’s massive,” she looked purposefully across the width, “I’m gonna be flat out instantly…..I don’t mind if you don’t!”

Strike nodded and flicked on the lamp before locking the door and switching off the main light in the room, “OK,” he stated, his equilibrium had completely given up the ghost and presumably decided not to bother with customs!

“I should take my leg off really,” he mentioned, placing his watch and wallet on the cabinet on what Robin had decided was ‘his side’ of the bed - nearest to the loo.  
Robin was scrolling through messages on her phone and also looking at the selfie images she’d snapped at the first cafe.  
In one of the images Strike had turned and was looking at her rather than the camera. His expression was so soft and bloody gorgeous!  
As it had been all evening.

She hadn’t imagined the way he was looking at her in the bistro….and she had found it remarkably easy to stare back at him, just like she had found it relatively easy to suggest they left the bed as it was.

He was her best mate…..they’d made that whole thing really crystal clear.

She realised that he’d spoken and glanced up as he stood with his back to her, and by the sound of things fiddling with his trouser belt.  
He moved to pull his trousers down his thighs but heard her high pitched, “Ooooh pants!” and realised, thankfully before it was too late, that he was still going commando.  
“Gimme a minute,” he grumbled, clearing his throat and hastily refastening his flies.

She was trying not to giggle as he walked around the bed, but her shaking shoulders were in his peripheral vision as he slid across the bathroom door and let out a loud exclamation.  
He had almost given her a significant amount more of his forty year old self than he had intended.

His spotted boxer shorts were bone dry, and toasty warm on the drying rack.  
Shaking his head he realised that without toilet or bathtub edge to sit on, he really couldn’t remove his trousers and put on his underwear.  
He cleaned his teeth and scrubbed water and shower gel across his face to remove some of the garlic butter residue before re entering the main room, huffing and pouting.

Robin came out of the toilet, paused and saw the crumpled purple, spotted fabric in his hand and was about to speak when he broke the silence.  
“Can you go in there while I sort this out? I need to sit down and erm…….,” he cleared his throat and waggled his pants in his hand.

With a soft snigger, Robin nodded and crossed by him en route to the shower room, “No problem, I need to try and get my make up off and sort out something to sleep in too,” and she closed the door over, leaving Strike to mentally consider her options.  
He supposed naked was a birthday wish too far!  
He then mentally called himself a pervy fucker as he dragged off his trousers.

When she emerged a short while later Strike had got himself into his boxer shorts and had put on the soft t shirt he’d removed and hung up before going out that evening.  
He was lying with one arm clasped behind his neck, the other holding his phone as he tapped with his thumb….Robin knew he’d be playing the word scramble game he enjoyed.  
He tried very hard not to stare, but the furtive initial glance he cast had rapidly and rather comically become a neck snapping double take.

Her make up free face was perfect, her hair dragged back into a pony tail.  
The navy blue knickers which he’d overly fondled earlier were, as he’d imagined, displaying the dictionary definition of peachy bum cheeks and she was also sporting a navy vest type top, or a camisole, which presumably she’d been wearing under her sweater.  
The fact that she clearly wasn’t wearing a bra was an additional level of torment and he found himself mentally flashing line after line of ‘grabby hand’ and ‘heart eyes’ emojis at her through his eyes, which he quite seriously could not make look anywhere else!

Robin had felt his gaze on her, but it honestly hadn’t felt uncomfortable, or letchy….if anything she was revelling in it, albeit trying to avoid directly catching his gaze - for fear that she might leap on him and ravish him, or simply explode!

“D’you want some?”  
Cormoran glanced across, slightly aghast and realised she was indicating the bottle of water.  
He absently nodded and waited, watching as she wandered back around the bed and fetched one of the glass tumblers from the bathroom which she filled for him before sauntering back to her side of the bed.

He had a feeling that she knew exactly the effect she had on him, and exactly how sexy she looked - which in itself was attractive to him.

Despite his track record with beauties the quality that really drove Strike wild in women was confidence.  
If they were confident in their skills, humour, intelligence and the way they looked it drove him crazy. And here was a scantily clad Robin, sliding her long, pale, smooth looking legs under the sheets of the bed his own one and a half hairy limbs were already inside.

She squirmed down and lay on her back, head tilted towards him on the pillow.  
Strike gave a deep inhalation; he didn’t really believe in birthday wishes and all that hocum crap…..but if there was the smallest possible chance of anything…...ANYTHING…..he’d blow out as many fucking candles as he could when the opportunity next arose!

“This should feel way more weird, don’t you think?” she stated, her clear face more beautiful and kissable than he’d ever seen. 

“A lot of things with you Ellacott feel strangely more normal than they should,” and he put his phone to one side and gave her an endearingly soft, crinkle eyed smile.  
Unusually neither could think of anything to say, they simply glanced at each other and shifted position for comfort.

Strike could feel colour rising in his cheeks for some reason - he was never self conscious in bed with a woman…..although this was Robin, this was not being in bed a woman….this was being in bed with his Robin.

On a whim he reached down and pulled the covers up over his head, wriggling a little further down the bed and enjoying the slight feminine squeal he heard before he saw her own head beneath the plummy cloud of privacy he’d created with the covers.  
“Right…...now we’re having a proper sleep over!” he twinkled, grinning widely, “So, explain your knickers please….how many different categories of underwear have you got if those are considered every day ones?”

She giggled and wriggled her toes, feeling warm, and happy and slightly loose tongued due to the wine….and not at all because of the overwhelming aroma of Cormoran and the simply heavenly sight of his features which were shadowed attractively in their cocoon.

“Erm, well, these are decent every day ones…...but I’ll be honest, I never had you pegged as a purple polka dot man!” she laughed, peeking down the bed and catching his gaze as he clearly took in her recumbent body as she considered his own relaxed form.

He inhaled deeply and with a rumble through his chest, “You always get a mad pair in the pack of three. The other two are very traditional…...blue stripes and black and grey checks…..then these!”

Robin nodded and gave a pleasing sigh, “That’s the same for mine…..these are quite restrained, but there was a mental leopard print pair in the packet.”

He wrinkled up his lips, “Can’t see you as an animal print type person!”

She grinned and winked cheekily, “I’m not, which is why I rather naughtily swapped them for another pair like this!”

Strike dropped his mouth open in mock horror and shock, “Robin Ellacott, you little sneak!.....bloody good plan though!”

“You do have to repackage them though, not just throw them on the rack….I mean I work on the assumption that someone out there…..probably someone called Sandra who lives in Essex…..would really like an extra pair of pink and black leopard print embellished shorts!” she grinned and sniffed, adjusting the covers and releasing a waft of her Narcisso scent.

Strike’s brain was now visualising Robin’s perfect arse clad in pink and black leopard print.  
He physically shook away the image, “So, back to yours…..how many categories in total? Decent every day, and presumably regular every day….what else?”  
Robin chuckled slightly, Strike was giving her a look that was, dare she think it…..seductive?  
But the general tone and vibe between them was playful and relaxed, not heated and passionate.

“Every day, boring plain ones; decent every day, which are pretty much like these ones, just bits of lace or silky; then obviously decent decent ones….oh, and then of course ludicrous ones for wearing with very specific clothes,” she noticed his eyes had dilated a little more when she’d mentioned the final category until she’d clarified.

“Example?” he stated, sniffing and settling more comfortably, releasing a waft of tobacco and his beard stubble making a pleasant scratchy sound against the pillow he was now almost cuddling.

Robin wrinkled her lips, “Well, that famous green dress is one example…...you either have to wear a sort of bust to knee thing to smooth out any bits, or…..it’s a thong job!”

Was it his imagination or had her lips formed a more definite pout after that final word?

He swallowed, audibly.  
“N’kay…...wow…...the mental image of the two is confusing to say the least!” and he pulled a purposefully bemused expression which made them both giggle.  
A brief silence slid around and between them.

Robin inhaled and broke it, “So have you enjoyed your birthday then?”

Strike’s face answered the question,”It’s been brilliant….better than I could ever have imagined. Honestly. Thank you Robin.”  
She gave a soft sigh, and the sound that emanated from her chest made him have serious thoughts about how safe it was to be this close to her, with only a couple of layers of cotton and elastic between them.

“You’re welcome…….I wanted to do something special for you…..because of what you did for me on mine…..and…...because…...well, you’re special to me,” and he saw the flush to her cheeks as she cast her eyes momentarily away from his under the strange, almost ethereal light beneath the white billowy tent.

He released one of his hands from where it was curled softly against his pillow and gently brought her dipped chin up so that he could meet her blue-grey eyes with his own.  
“I know,” he whispered, “You know I feel the same Ellacott.”

She nodded softly, mainly because she didn’t want him to remove his finger tips from where they were now stroking against her cheek.

“When we get back to London, should we maybe…...not go to bed together, and maybe have a talk about…...this and what this could be if…..we both wanted that?” he stammered, his voice breaking a little as Robin had squirmed closer to him as he spoke, her eyes suddenly matching the softness and openness of her smile.

“That sounds very sensible, and very much what I’d like to do,” her face suddenly unable to stop reflecting the happiness inside her.

Cormoran’s face broke out into a similar expression of relief and he leaned forwards, pressing his lips against the soft skin of her forehead and the silky gold of her hair before pulling back and simply smiling at her almost jubilant face.  
With a slight giggle Robin blew her breath up across her face, “I’m boiling!” she exclaimed and threw back the covers from their heads.

Strike, a little more reluctant to break the almost magical atmosphere that had existed between them, copied her and they smoothed out the fabric.  
“Sleep would probably be very sensible,” he murmured.

She nodded, her face looking glowing and incredibly beautiful against the white pillow.  
He twisted around and flicked off the small lamp and, until their eyes adjusted to the slight glow from the street lights, they were only aware of the other person beside them by their subtle scent and the sound and vibration of movement against the mattress.

“Goodnight Ellacott,” he considered how perfect a gift it was to have spent a complete day with the woman he adored, and to know that she would be the first thing he saw when he woke up.  
The future for them; post Paris; post no doubt lengthy discussions about what they both wanted ; was uncertain…..but exciting!

Robin was facing away from where he was lying on his back in the bed, but he felt a tentative hand reach out and locate his left bicep, resting on its firmness.  
“Happy Birthday Strike,” she whispered.

“Well, they do say life begins at forty!” he mumbled, and brought his warm, large, hairy right hand up to cover hers….and also clasp it closer to above his heart.


	6. ***THE SMUTTY VERSION *******

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *****SMUTTY VERSION......IN FACT WE ARE LOOKING AT SMUT THROUGH THE REAR WINDOW........THIS IS THE PORNY ONE BED SHENANIGANS SOME OF YOU WANT......AND WHICH I LOVE WRITING********  
> This is NOT TEEN and UP.......this chapter is definitely 'E' rated but I am not changing the full rating as the other possible ending and the rest is all lovely and you really don't NEED to read this......honest you don't!!!!!  
> ....still here.....oh goodie....enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests made by those who matter were for slow, drawn out passion....and face sitting!  
> Et voila!

A combination of a slow stroll, a quick trip on the Metro and a few dozen more stairs brought them close to the hotel.  
Robin spotted a small tabac and dived inside with a purpose.  
Out of curiosity Strike bought himself a packet of a French brand of cigarettes, Robin added a small carton of ‘lait frais’ and a bottle of Evian to the counter.  
“What’s the milk for?” he asked as they ascended in the lift to their room.  
“You’ll find out in the morning,” Robin stated, flashing him an impishly perfect smile as they reentered the room.

She gave a small pout at the sight of the bed, “Oh! They haven’t sorted it,” she wiggled her fingers in the direction of the large bed, still rumpled from Strike earlier.

He gave her an amused side-eyes glare, “No they haven’t, I wonder why?”

He stood facing her, either side of the large bed.  
His gaze on her was intense.

The brief trip in the lift had given him a close quarters top up of that glorious scent he’d selected for her, and that had instantly made him imagine it on heated, post coital skin….possibly having transferred to his own skin through combined sweat and contact.

For a second Robin doubted her next move….but only for a second.  
“Where are your matches?” she asked, removing her jacket and tossing it across the bottom of the bed.

Strike fumbled in his coat pocket and waved the pack, “Here…..why?” there was that ridiculous drop in his already baritone growl.

“Well, Ilsa made that cake….but you haven’t had any candles to blow out…..and make a birthday wish,” she sauntered across and tried to swipe the box, but he remained holding it beneath her hand and followed her to the terrace. “Don’t want to set the smoke detectors off!”  
Scrambling through the doors she lead him onto the terrace where he finally relinquished hold on the match book.

Robin ripped off one of the matches and struck it, holding it between where they were standing, fairly closely just outside the room itself.  
“Just imagine there are 40…..on that lop sided chocolate cake Ilsa made you,” she grinned and watched as Strike dutifully closed his eyelids and wrinkled his lips.  
He opened his darkly dilated gaze again a moment later and moved to blow out the match, but Robin pulled it closer to her own mouth, pressed her lips together and extinguished the flame.

“I…..didn’t get to blow it out…..my wish won’t come true,” he murmured as Robin discarded the spent match.  
She closed the distance between them and pressed her palms against the firmness of his chest, enjoying the hitch to his breathing combined with the palpable beating of his heart under her hand.

“I think it might,” she whispered before clutching a hand into the soft, springy hair at the nape of his neck and pulling his lips to meet hers in a slow, languid kiss.

Neither seemed capable of breaking contact, but nor did they attempt to deepen what was turning into a panting, almost painfully restrained connection.  
Finally Robin pushed gently away and stared into Cormoran’s swirling gaze, hoping desperately that he was feeling the same storm of desire that was coursing through her body.

“You see,” she whispered, finding that her hand just couldn’t stop itself stroking up and down against his remarkably well defined pec muscle….and was that a small, hard nipple she had just located which had caused that moan from his throat?

Strike turned the groan he’d been unable to stifle when her fingers had grazed across his nipple - it was cold, and the heat forming within him from their kiss was mainly focused lower on his body currently! - into a deeply seductive, hissed statement,  
“That wasn’t what I wished for.”

He felt her tense fractionally and her face tilted, reflecting slight fear that she’d grossly misread the situation.  
He calmed her instantly by licking out his tongue against her pouting lower lip and inhaling the scent of her breath and neck deeply.

“You sure?” she asked, relaxing back against him, finding her spine melting as his hot breath seemed to be burning into her neck with his mumbled,  
“N’uh huh!”  
“My wish was way, way more specific,” his lips found the skin below her ear, “And much more thorough,” the same lips latched onto her earlobe and sucked gently, “And significantly more…...filthy.” 

The final word was no more than an exhalation of his breath, but as it coincided with him burying his head into her neck and biting down on her collarbone it acted like a siren.  
She bucked her body against him as he deftly hoisted her up, her legs clasping around his waist as his tongue and teeth continued to breathily explore her neck.

Something about the powerful strength as he held her and moved them back towards the room was incredibly reassuring and her hands swarmed through his shambolic curls which she’d spent far too long in the past staring at across their shared work desk and imagining that they felt anything like this soft and glorious to touch.

As he grunted and pulled his head out of the crevice of her neck and indicated the door she relinquished her pleasurable grip on his scalp and slammed the doors closed.  
The brief pause and change from cold to hot flicked a switch of clarity in them both and despite his palm still swarming across the taut fabric of her jeans encasing her delectable arse he leaned away from her, enjoying that she seemed determined to make him continue his oral ministrations to her face.

“You sure…..this is what you want?” he asked, panting and suppressing a guttural moan as her hands once more splayed through his hair, pulling firmly on his scalp.

“For way longer than you probably think,” she whimpered, her mouth falling open as one of his hands slid further beneath her and his fingers dug pleasurably against her desperate centre.

“But, back in London?.......What?.....” and this time he couldn’t stop himself dropping his head back and hissing a string of swear words as she lower one hand and grabbed at his backside, pulling him close to her and grinding against him.

“We’ll figure that out when we get there….but right now we’re here….in Paris….on your Birthday…..and both of us want this, so can we just?........” and she trailed off as he stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed, bringing Robin down with him to sit across his lap and enabling him to rake his hands along her thighs, tugging her into a slight grinding rhythm of pleasure against his achingly rigid cock.

He was about to clarify exactly WHAT the what was that they would possibly spend the rest of their time in Paris taking part in when she pre empted him with a breathless hiss in his ear,  
“Please tell me you have a condom in your wallet.”

He groaned and gave an obscene chortle of laughter before starting to tug the fabric of her top free from her jeans, his fingers seeking out her unbelievably soft skin, “Even if I didn’t have one there are plenty of things I plan on doing before that becomes an issue,” and his hands sliding against the breadth of skin along her sides and up her back as he sought out her lips.  
The breathy whimper of need she had uttered had made her mouth open under his lips, and he experimentally flicked his tongue inside, seeking out hers and glorying in how readily it slid and swirled against his.

She tasted amazing.  
Their breaths and kisses were now heated and primal.  
Hands were seeking out bare skin, tugging at clothing that now seemed far too unnecessary for what both of them desired.

“Let me take these off,” Robin flicked her attention to her boots, and Strike reluctantly released her a little in order to tilt back and fling off one and then the other of her zipped boots and socks.

“I want more off than that,” he murmured as she leaned back into him and licked into his mouth.  
Releasing one hand he pushed himself up and stood, twisting around and easing Robin back across the crumpled bed covers.  
“Can I?” he knelt slightly awkwardly beside her at the base of the bed and rolled his finger and thumb across the buttons of her haphazardly untucked top.

Robin pierced him with a look of such confident sexuality that he was momentarily floored….and briefly in danger of ruining his trousers given the fact that he suddenly became highly aware of the fact that he wasn’t wearing underwear beneath them!

“It’s not a matter of whether you’re allowed…….I’m actually demanding that you do, Strike….and make it quick!”

Having caught his breath however he leaned across her, his mouth seeking out her lips, then neck again as he shook his head, “No way….I’ve waited too long for this…..I intend to take my time….sorry if that’s gonna be an issue,” and he rendered his beautiful, multi talented work partner incapable of rational thought as he slid his hands up under her top to cup her breasts over her bra while dipping his head and latching his mouth over the seam of her jeans, breathing hot, hungry need which she could feel making her wetter than she had already become.

“Oh God! Strike!” her shriek delighted him , but he ceased his focus, suddenly wanting closer contact with the woman he had, to his shame, fantasised about being in his bed on far too many occasions in the past year or so.  
With an almost sinister snarl he dragged himself away from her writhing hips and leant on his clenched knuckles, one arm either side of her body, enjoying the fact that she was reaching out with her hands at his shirt and trousers.

“Have you got those little navy blue knickers on under there?” he asked, his eyes trying to develop the ability to see through fabric as she smiled and nodded.

Jesus, her eyes were as sexy as fuck peering up at him, and her lips had been made darker and even more sensual by engaging in being crushed against his own.

“I have,” she stated, “And I know your boxers are still on that towel rail, Mr Commando!” and she teased a finger in a curve across his backside and down his hip bone.

The relaxed jokiness was reassuring….and also wildly arousing to Strike.  
He was of course, fully aware of how sex could potentially bring about all manner of painful and unpleasant memories, but the fact that she was comfortable enough to flirt and joke with him gave him the confidence to shake away those doubts.

“I want to see them…..filled out!” he smiled, raising one eyebrow and moving one hand across to the button and zip of her jeans, capturing her mouth again in a delving, noisy, wet kiss as he deftly succeeded in unfastening the garment.  
He pulled away from her mouth and leaned back, hoisting Robin slightly higher up the bed on his knees before sliding off the bed and kneeling on the carpet.  
He leaned forwards, hands travelling up her outer thighs and hips and firmly gripped the waistband of her jeans waiting for her to wriggle and submit to his desire to remove them before he dragged them down revealing far too much creamy, lightly freckled skin for his eyes to fully take in.  
He clumsily dropped the crumpled jeans to the floor and gently allowed his palms to caress her small, actually rather cool toes before moving up to stroke against every inch of her ankles, calves and knees.

His mouth followed the trail of his fingers, and he marvelled at each soft whimpering sound she made.  
He discovered a little patch of hyper sensitive and ticklish skin beside her knee and smiled before pulling back and instructing her to, “Roll over….I’ve been imagining what your arse might look like in these knickers since I saw them in the bathroom!”

With a feminine snigger Robin languidly rolled to her left, crossing her arms across her chest and glancing over her shoulder as Strike allowed his eyes to feast on every soft undulation at his disposal.  
Jesus Christ…..he thanked every God and deity he didn’t believe in for making this amazing woman fall into his life….and thanked his own good fortune for not having fucked it up too badly (sacking her didn’t count ‘cos he’d made it up since!) and finally bringing them here to this moment and this bed.

He emitted a soft grunt and allowed a finger tip to trace the soft, peachy curve of each of the cheeks of her arse, Robin watched the expression on his face, marvelling in how heated his gaze was as he almost salivated over her.

His face looked incredibly focused…...Christ if he was that serious and purposeful about looking at her what the hell would he be like doing anything else?!

“That towel rail didn’t do them justice!” he gasped, and without further warning clasped her firmly at her hips and licked his warm, wet tongue under the delectable curve of her arse cheek giving the tiny sliver of fabric at her crease a tantalising additional probing with his tongue!  
Robin squirmed and emitted a sound which filled Cormoran’s groin with arousal.  
Easing backwards he coaxed her to roll back so that he could look at her face again. He also wanted to tackle more of her clothing.

“I’m taking this off,” he indicated his shirt. “Whenever I do a button on mine, I want you to do one on yours.”

Christ he was calm.  
Robin’s heart was beating wildly in her chest.  
The way his eyes were virtually devouring her was like nothing she had ever experienced before in bed. 

He was now kneeling between her bare legs and unbuttoned the third of his shirt buttons down - the top two as always left unfastened in his default shirt setting - he then watched as she tackled the button below the collar of her top.  
He moved onto the next, hitching the fabric slightly as he popped the button through the hole revealing a swathe of dark chest hair which his standard, sexy in a 'dad bod way' sternum bush had always hinted at.

Robin hissed in a sharp intake of breath as a waft of his masculine aroma hit her square in the nostrils and crotch. She released a second button and instinctively moved her fingers to the next button on the placket.  
Strike grinned and quickly unfastened the next button on his shirt before moving to each of the cuffs, his eyes followed Robin’s hands as she copied him, the central flash of her bra in the same navy blue shade as her knickers now visible.

Strike’s breathing was now a little more laboured, mainly because Robin was trailing the tips of her fingers across the undulating mounds of creamy skin visible above the satin and lace of the cups of her bra.  
Her eyes were firmly following his gaze, almost daring him to stare back and fall into the swirling pools of sparkling blue-grey that she was aiming at him like lasers.

“All the rest,” he hissed, hastily tackling the remaining buttons of his own shirt before rippling his shoulders free of it and tossing the bundle of cotton aside.  
Robin unfastened her own top and smoothed the fabric over her shoulders, allowing it to fall to the bed.

Cormoran drank her in.  
He feasted on the sight of her long, flawless limbs; of the beautiful curve from her slender waist to her hips; and the few strategically placed scraps of navy blue satin and lace covering her breasts and mound.

“I want to touch you,” she whispered, biting her lower lip and flexing her hand in the direction of his bared chest the sight of which which sang to her inner needs.

With a rumble in his chest Strike clambered across the bed and lay back, inhaling and hissing her name as her fingers splayed and tugged into the mat of soft, dark hair covering his chest.  
She located his dark, bullet hard nipples and scratched her small nails around and across each, laughing mischievously as he slammed his head back into the mattress and uttered her name again, this time louder and without quite so much control.

Robin was feeling nothing but arousal and sensuality as she experimented with the pressure she applied to Strike’s body - her hands slipped down his sides, and he flinched, wrinkling his nose.

“Are you ticklish?” she giggled, purposefully trailing her fingers across the same section of his skin, which she could see contained a few small scars of rippled white skin.  
He groaned and eased himself up onto his elbows, staring at her with eyes overflowing with seduction.

“A little bit….are you?” he asked and pulled her up to lie beside him, grazing his knuckles along her arms, up to her shoulder, and then down over the swell and swoop of her breasts and belly, watching her expression closely and with a wry grin as she tried not to show any degree of ticklishness at his teasing touch.  
“Technically though you got pure skin…..I keep getting interrupted,” he pursed his lips and toyed his fingers at the smooth fabric of her bra. “I’d love to know if you’re more sensitive under this…...that OK?”

Her nodding head was matched by eyes and lips that almost begged him to reach around and unclasp the fastening.  
He pressed her to lie back on the bed and slid the straps from her shoulders, growling like a caged beast when her ample breasts met his gaze.  
Each prefect mound was tipped with a small, rose pink nipple and he shamelessly fell across her recumbent body, latching onto the first which found his mouth, nuzzling and sucking the softly scented skin until it puckered and formed a pearl-like bead between his lips and teeth.

The sound from Robin as she squirmed and bucked beneath him was like a spark to petrol and his hands slid around her back, pulling her pliant body into his hungry mouth and noticing that she was now emitting the unmistakable aroma of pheromones from beneath those tiny, shorts.

“Christ Ellacott, you’re fucking perfect,” he hissed, moving across to suckle at her other breast and moving his hand down past the fabric of her knickers and squeezing her thigh, his thumb swirling inwards and stroking up towards what he knew would be her soaked seam.

She grunted sweetly and pouted those full, crimson lips at him, shifting her legs slightly and providing him access should he decide to take it.  
He was, however, very much aware that he only had one condom, and he wanted this night to be filled with more than just the pleasure he knew they would derive from utilising it.

Speedily, and cursing as the laces wouldn’t seem to loosen quickly enough, he ripped off his purposeful boot and sock and slid up the bed, onto his back, pulling at Robin’s waist to coax her to straddle across him.  
He pulled her higher than she had assumed he wanted her, she had felt the size of him beneath his trousers, but he seemed to want her sitting almost across his chest, one of her knees pushed in to his warm armpits as his hands swarmed across the skin of her thighs and buttocks.

He arched his neck and chin up and groaned as she curled down to kiss him with a wonderful freedom and passion ignited within her - he could feel no tension in her body, only the need for release and pleasure in her movements.

“I need to taste you…..up here,” he purred, the reverberation through his chest tingling Robin’s most sensitive area, splayed as it was against his chest.

“What about these?” she trailed her thumb around the band of her knickers and watched as his off centred smile twitched into a smirk or delight.

“I can work around those for now, get up here….that’s an order,” he hissed and groaned as she arched up onto her knees, bringing herself forwards and down against his mouth.  
His eyes remained locked on hers, peering up past the unbelievably erotic view of her naked breasts as he licked out with his tongue and trailed it’s firm wetness against the already damp fabric.

The flavour of her was sweet, warm….like the finest whisky.  
And he fucking loved whisky!

He could drink it for hours….and hours.

Robin had been slightly alarmed at Cormoran’s eagerness to act out this particular scenario - much as she tried not to think about Matthew this was something he’d never been too keen on and had usually only indulged in when seriously drunk, meaning he’d been fairly unimpressive at it!  
The same would appear not to be true of Strike’s prowess and she found herself peering down at him as she caught sight of his pink tongue curling and caressing the crease of her thigh, across the fabric of her completely soaked knickers and grinding his stubbled chin against her satin covered mound.

She leaned back and rested her palms around Strike’s belly making an uncontrollable little whimpering sounds as Strike’s tongue developed a purposeful pattern and rhythm as he breathed deeper and matched her moans with loud, hot exhalations of his own.  
He brought his hands up her thighs moving his thumbs under his chin, pressing high up into the smoothly waxed crease just adjacent to the fabric covering her centre.  
A breathy hiss of, “Yessssss,” caused him to flick a fingertip beneath the fabric, growling loudly when he slid it along her folds which were drenched with heat and juices which he longed to taste properly.  
He tugged the navy gusset to one side and delved his tongue along her seam in one long, lascivious stroke.

The sound which Robin created was completely new and unheard to her ears and delighted Strike so much that he repeated the long, languid lick several times, swirling his tongue deeper against more of her, smearing her stickiness across his mouth like a luxurious lipbalm.

“Christ, Robin…...you’re delicious,” he murmured, latching the material of her knickers with one thumb to reveal her fair haired sex to his ravenous eyes and mouth.  
He trailed his other fingers across her moist folds, locating her entrance and waiting for her eyes to find his before pressing one digit firmly inside her, feeling her velvety walls clench around him as she swore in a manner which was entirely new and delightful to Cormoran’s ears.

Whilst she continued to mumble something which could have been, “Where the fuck has this been all my life?” Cormoran stroked within her, watching her reactions and repeating flicks with his finger and deeper, delving pressure as her mouth twitched and the noises she was making became more lacking in control.

He was in heaven.  
The overwhelming sensory thrill was mesmeric, and he continued to stroke and tease at her with his finger before he lowered his mouth back to her now uncovered and fully accessible folds.  
He flicked his tongue across her, tasting the increased arousal he knew he was responsible for and growled animalistically when she ground her hips and pussy onto his face.  
He thought she might have shouted his name, but she might have been calling to god above or the devil himself.  
Either way, she was apparently chasing her own pleasure from his talented digits and equally focused mouth.

Robin was discovering that the pleasure she’d previously only experienced at her own hands was indeed possible from a lover…..at least one who gave his complete attention to the task and seemed to take as much delight in providing pleasure for another as taking his own.

She knew that her hips were now bucking and writhing against the delicious pressure of his tongue, teeth and bristled beard - who knew THAT could be so enjoyable?! - and she knew that desire was building within her and that she was close to melting completely.

As if sensing it, or maybe he just took a lucky guess, Strike pulled his finger back and deftly inserted a second, thick, strong, long and dexterous digit and swirled his tongue firmly around the hidden nub of sensitive nerves nestled within her soft hairs.

“Oh God, Cor….mor….annnn!” the shudder and clenching of her thighs and the bang of her hands pummelling the tall, padded headboard signalled her explosive detonation and Strike almost laughed as he continued to stroke and lick every droplet of pleasure from her.

As her quivering stilled he gently eased her back down his body, almost uncurling her limbs to drape her across his torso, her glorious amber hair spilling across his chest and mingling with the dark mat of his own hirsute body.

“That OK Ellacott?” he mumbled, laughing in an obscene manner as she made an uncontrolled murmur of acknowledgement and slithered her arm and leg across him, seeming to notice that he was still wearing his trousers after ‘forgetting’ for a while!

“You’re overdressed Strike!” she whimpered, grinning and looking at him through debauched eyes; her hair a tousled affectation of orgasmic release.

He cast his eyes down past his slightly more well defined abs and smirked at the fact that his trousers were not sufficient to disguise his arousal beneath them.

“You do realise that my own rather racy knickers are currently still draped across that towel rail in there,” he flicked his head towards the bathroom and raised one eyebrow in that ‘I could play James Bond if they wanted a one legged version’ manner he had which was completely, knee weakening delicious.

“I’m fully aware of that Mr Strike….in fact it’s been crossing my mind throughout the evening that you’ve been going commando!” and she returned his impish expression as she wriggled her breasts against his skin enjoying the friction against her softening nipples as she reached up and tilted her chin to capture his lips in a kiss which was tainted sexily with the aroma of her own intimate scent. 

“Needs must,” he grinned and dislodged Robin slightly so that he could tackle his belt and flies with a slight grunt of effort due to him being lying flat on the bed and the fact that Robin’s tongue was continuing to delve into his mouth.  
Having unfastened both he jutted his chin to create a pause in their kiss.  
“This doesn’t mean anything else has to happen if you don’t want it to,” he growled softly and deeply.

Robin repositioned herself and her hands so that she was covering his and tugged at the twill fabric.  
“But I want it to,” she breathed and slithered down the bed raking his trousers with her, gasping as she revealed his rigid length.

Strike groaned and allowed her to take control of removing his trousers, a flicker of smug pride flashing through his mind as he saw her pupils dilate when his erect cock was displayed to her. 

Robin was able to pull the garment down to his knees - one normal, hairy and slightly bony, the other covered in the black fabric cuff attached to his prosthesis - but then halted, looking up to meet his gaze.  
“Do you want to take over and deal with your leg?” she asked and smiled seductively as he pressed himself to sit up, dragging his trousers off his full leg and hastily and efficiently tackled the removal of his lower limb.

He didn’t appear self conscious of his nakedness, nor did he seem wary of revealing his scarred, gnarled stump to her, but to be fair, her eyes appeared very much focused elsewhere on his anatomy when he carefully placed his leg against the cabinet beside the bed and turned back to face her, sniffing and gently tucking a few stray locks of honey-gold hair behind her ear to enable him to nuzzle his lips against the pale skin of her neck.

“You’re so incredibly beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes swirling pools of green.  
She flexed her neck into his palm and captured his thumb between her teeth, sucking and licking along the slightly uneven nail; the one he often fiddled between his teeth when considering new information on a case.  
Sliding the hand down he briefly cupped her breast and continued to her hips, slipping his fingers under the fabric of her knickers.

“I honestly think these are pretty redundant now,” he snarled, gripping at the material slightly more harshly than he’d done previously, making the garment pull tight against her core in an incredibly pleasurable manner.  
“Off,” she hissed arching up her hips to assist him peel them from her.

“We appear to be naked, Ellacott!” he stated, allowing his gaze to travel from the coral tips of her toes up to the softly furred V of hairs at the juncture of her thighs, up past her tiny, indented belly button, those amazing, full, suckable breasts, her elegant pale neck and found her eyes waiting for him.

“You taken it all in, Strike? Anything there you weren’t expecting?” she asked, playfully.

He liked playful Robin.  
He liked that she wasn’t embarrassed to be naked with him.

“It’s all good….trust me…..although I think my feelings are pretty evident,” and he flicked his gaze down to his not insignificant length which was intimidatingly evident, standing proud of his body, the head dark and shining with his leaking arousal.

Robin was still playful Robin, and she was horny again.  
Strike’s tongue at her clit had revved her motor and now she just wanted to drive.

She licked her lips and pouted, biting down on her lower lip and gazing unashamedly at his cock, enjoying that it twitched as he grunted the realisation that she was staring at him, and seemed impressed based on the small whimpering sounds she was making.  
“I want that,” she purred and slid herself down, across his belly, her breasts rubbing deliciously against his furred chest.

Strike bucked his hips a little as he realised what she was intending and deftly moved her leg across his torso, hitching his hands into the crease of her hips, splaying his fingers across her mound and growling as she pulled her head back and he felt tendrils of that glorious amber hair trail across his groin.  
Her mouth closed around him as he tugged her back to bury his tongue within her folds.

Their combined noisy, wet mouths delivered unspeakable, unwritable pleasure; both communicating their desired rhythm by the slow pulsing of their hips against the other.

Strike couldn’t help himself from burying his face in her…...he also couldn’t help that his mouth couldn’t fully control itself, although the wide, open mouthed shouts of delight he was emitting seemed to be working for her because her mouth was doing all manner of unspeakably delectable things to his cock.

Things that even in his wildest, whisky soaked fantasies he’d never managed to imitate.

Jesus Christ she was fucking talented…..her tongue was so agile…..no wonder she could do so many accents!

Robin was enjoying sucking on his pretty gorgeous cock - it was thick and hard and all for her and she hadn’t been with a guy in a very long time!  
She’d always quite liked blow jobs - more control for her - and in this position Strike couldn’t grab onto her hair and ram himself into her; although based on how thorough he was being about pleasuring her for a second time she got the feeling that her enjoyment was definitely equal to, if not more important than his own.

After multiple heavenly high minutes of wordless, but definitely not silent oral interaction Robin felt her hips being hoisted firmly but gently forwards and away from his mouth.  
He was panting, his cock still buried deep within the warm, wet haven of her mouth.

“Robin…...I need you to stop, love…...otherwise this night is gonna be over….and I definitely don’t want it to be just yet,” he swore multiple times as she gave his cock a couple of additional heated sucks before levering off him and rolling up to giggle and lick a silvery trail of her own slickness from his beard.

“Condom,” she stated decisively.

“You sure?” he asked, squirming up and reaching for his wallet on the side table. He flicked through the multiple unused credit card slots and located the one which contained a foil wrapped condom.  
Robin knelt towards him and nodded, taking the little packet from his fingers and placing it between her teeth before flopping backwards across the pillows, her hair fanning into an ethereal halo of toffee coloured shards around head.

His eyes bored into hers; wolfish and supremely purposeful as he moved himself over her, her legs wrapping instantly around his; her toes wriggling against his ankle and giggling as he smiled and plucked the condom from her teeth with his own groaning at the feel of her hands swarming across his softly furred buttocks as he transferred his weight onto one strong arms, making his shoulder muscles bulge pleasingly as if trying to escape from beneath his swarthy skin.  
He tore open the wrapper and pouted fractionally.

“What?” I want this….please don’t chicken out now,” she almost pleaded, writhing beneath him and digging her small nails into his lower back in a manner which suggested he’d have memory marks in the morning.

“I won’t….I’m not,” he stated, trying to reassure her with a kiss, “It’s just….easier to do this bit….not….here,” and he half shrugged and he indicated the unwrapped condom clasped next to her shoulder.  
She glanced across and took the rolled rubber from him, “Let me,” she suggested and before he could do anything other than swear and steady himself on his hands she had confidently stretched the condom over him and slid her hands back around his hips, one travelling further back to tantalisingly stroke along the cleft of his arse before moving up to dig into his upper back, feeling the ripple of his shoulder muscles as he adjusted his hips and instinctively located her entrance.

He could have drawn the moment out, but they’d wasted too long already over something they clearly both wanted - their completely synchronized actions in the previous hour had shown that to be the case - he therefore only paused in order to capture Robin’s cheek with his splayed hand, ensuring that their eyes locked as he slid into her.

Robin could have cried when he entered her; not because of discomfort, but because it felt so completely right. His length was pleasingly sized to stretch and fill her without being painful.

Cormoran shuddered at the feeling of her velvety heat surrounding and squeezing him.  
He fitted perfectly inside her. 

Pulling back he thrust forwards again, their eyes still locked, but their mouths gasping and sharing the same exhaled air.  
With a considerate effort he pulled back and stilled, coaxing her lips to his by licking his tongue out and maintaining their shared eye smile as they began to move more assuredly together.  
Her hips moved forwards into his thrusts, his cock slid deeply within her, stroking the places his fingers had previously reached and then some.

“Christ Robin, this is perfect,” he hissed, his breath hot and uncontrolled against her ear and neck, sending a further shiver of delight through her as he moved a hand down to hitch under her arse, opening her slightly wider and enabling his dark pelvis to grind pleasingly against her fair clit.

Anyone would think he’d done this before and knew what he was doing!

With a cry of his name and delight he slid his hand to grasp onto behind her knee, coaxing her calf higher and sucking on her neck as he whispered a string of almost transcendental compliments and continued to move with her.

Her foot found its way around his waist, pressing firmly into the rhythm they were now building, a push/pull of hips and breath combined with urging each other on with “Yes,” “There”, “More” and “Fuck!”

Strike knew he was close, and much as he wanted to empty himself inside Robin he also wanted, if possible, for her to cum with him.  
“Oh Jesus, Robin, get on top of me,” he panted, rolling over keeping her clasped close to him resulting in a breathy, feminine grunt of surprise followed by a long groan as the new position with her splayed on top of him as he sat up on his elbows, sucking on her nipples and enjoying them hardening in his mouth caused her increased arousal again.

“God, Strike…..oh God….I’m gonna cum,” her voice became slightly slurred and her eyes turned a blissfully glazed shade of navy as she undulated against him, his hands moving her firmly and with a perfectly judged rhythm against him.  
He was close to falling apart himself but the sight of Robin’s neck melting and her mouth forming a wordless, “Yeesssss,” as her muscles clenched around him had him seeing stars and pumping his hips up into her spasming centre until he exploded in a powerful rush of pent up desire.

Breathless and wordless their arms clasped each other’s sweat covered body as they attempted to stabilise their gasping lungs and form words.

Strike managed to locate her neck with his hand and gently fell back across the pillows, holding her carefully, preciously against his pounding heart and lungs.  
She wriggled her hips to break their connection and straddled her legs across his thigh, enjoying that his palm naturally fell to cup the curve of her arse.

“Please tell me…..that….wasn’t just because it was my birthday!” he panted, pressing a kiss against her damp forehead.

She sniggered and buried her nose more deeply into the soft, dark hair of his chest, “Would it matter very much if it was?” she asked, resting her chin on his chest and smiling up at him in a manner that he ached to capture as a picture in his memory forever.

He groaned and wrinkled his mouth, “This time maybe not…..but that had better not be only once every year Ellacott,” and he wrapped his arms around her and proceeded to deliver a series of animalistic, wet kisses across most of her skin as she squealed and laughed.

Later, as he stroked languidly across her bare shoulder, the two of them having finally got under the bed covers and flicked off the lamp he reflected on what might happen next for Strike and Ellacott….partners.

Whatever it was it promised to be epic!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have several favourite, squeal inducing lines from this!  
> And yes... you can see a '7' as there has to be a final chapter explaining that 'Lait' that she bought!


	7. It is a wonderful thing to be given hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doesn't matter which of the previous chapters you read/prefer, this ending works with both I think.  
> A fluffy ending with the prospect and hope of something new for them both when they get back to normality and away from the city of LURVE.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos to the Discorders for some Trademark references - Solid Man really needs to be officially linked to Strike in terms of adjectives!!!

Strike blinked himself awake; the bright Autumnal sunshine filtering through the badly closed window dressing made him squint his eyes and emit an incredibly masculine growl.   
Dimly he became aware that he’d shared a bed with Robin last night; soft wafts of her scent mixed with both of their body’s more natural and basal aromas filled his nostrils as he inhaled deeply, stretched his shoulders and winced at the resounding and familiar morning cracks from his world weary joints.

“Morning sleepy head!”

Robin’s voice was bright and a little sultry and coming from the left side of him.  
He rolled and used his palms to prop himself up onto his elbows making a further groan as he saw her perfect backside encased (barely!) in the navy blue knickers he had taken such enjoyment in the previous evening.

“Was I snoring?” he asked, ruffling his palm across his frankly disastrous hair as he tried to avoid his body reacting in the only way it seemed to know how to behave faced with the delight of such glorious creamy skin.  
Robin turned away from the small coffee machine, her breasts encased in the navy blue stretchy camisole looking every bit as edible as they had the previous evening.

“You might have been….I was fast asleep. I only woke up ‘cos I needed a wee!” she grinned before trotting across to the french windows.

Strike sat further up in bed, mainly because he was delighted, and at the same time mortified, by the effect her impromptu little skip across the room had had on both her and his anatomy.   
But he also wanted to see what she was doing.

A blast of almost icy air accompanied her small shriek as she quickly closed over the glass door.  
As she came back over to the bed and the cabinet contraption that housed the hospitality tray the effect of the cold Parisian air had made itself evident and Strike’s mouth dropped open uncontrollably at the sight of her small, peaked nipples.

“Erm, what’re you doin’?” he asked, as nonchalantly as he could and forced his eyes to flick towards the two ‘tastefully arty’ glass mugs which were set out with spoons propped in each.  
Robin grinned and rummaged in her small, crossbody bag before holding aloft two relatively unremarkable standard looking tea bags.

“And,” she added as she saw his interest piqued instantly, “Proper milk not that weird stuff out of the capsules!”

“Ellacott….you do know that when you do things like this you are my dream woman don’t you?!” he grinned, impishly wriggling his toes at the thought of a decent cup of tea to start the day….a day that would see them return to normality, or whatever that looked like for them now after…...everything that had happened.

“Well…..I have my moments!” she grinned and gave her eyebrows, and backside a cheeky waggle as she turned back to pop the Yorkshire teabags into the odd glass mugs, “Just have to work out how to get plain hot water out of this contraption!” and she focused on the coffee machine, wrinkling her nose and narrowing her eyes at the various controls.

Strike lay back against the pillows, both hands clasped behind his neck, the muscles on his biceps bulging as he inhaled and allowed his eyelids to drift closed pleasantly.  
He heard a happy grunt from his left and heard the coffee machine begin to deliver water into the cups.

“What time do we officially need to leave?” he asked, yawning in a jaw cracking manner.

Robin, her back still facing him as she tried to judge when to press the button to stop the stream of hot water, gave one of her characteristic lip tuts, “Technically we need to get to the Gare du Nord for midday…...don’t grumble, it was the only available train Mr Last Minute Plans dot com!”

He gave a slightly filthy chuckle but grinned widely.  
“I don’t mind acting recklessly every now and then, “ he smirked, forming a sexily relaxed ‘Oooohhh’ with his mouth as a mug of his favoured creosote coloured tea was presented - the intoxicating sight of the drink momentarily dragging his gaze away from Robin’s glorious display of creamy skin and the rather heavenly curve of her thinly covered breasts.

“Speaking of reckless….” she turned and added milk to her own brew before perching at the foot of the bed in the space left vacant by the lack of his lower limb.  
He sipped his tea and regarded her above the rim, hoping that she wasn’t going to suggest that what had taken place the previous evening had been a huge error of judgement.  
“What happens?” she asked, trying to adopt an expression of passive ‘I can accept anything you say, just please, please say it involves us doing more of that’ as she brought her hot drink to her lips. 

Strike waited until she lowered the mug before leaning forwards slightly and reaching his free hand for hers.  
Their fingers entwined naturally, his thumb caressing the soft skin between her thumb and fingers.

“Why don’t we head back home and then maybe discuss it all over a couple of drinks in The Tottenham?” he suggested, his forehead creasing, his eyes softly imploring.  
She gave his fingers a quick but purposeful squeeze. 

“I like that plan,” she stated, nodding and pursing her lips far too delectably.

His resolute intention to not try and turn the magic of last night into anything more until they’d talked further snapped.  
He tugged on their still clasped hands.  
Leaning his own body forwards from the waist he heard her small shriek as the firmness of his grip urged her towards him.  
He pressed his lips to her and felt them soften and mould instantly to his own.

It was brief; it wasn’t a kiss that would go down in the realms of history in terms of technique or passion - I mean there was no sense spilling perfectly decent tea! - but it signified a great deal more.  
It signified a possibility.  
It signified hope......and it was always a wonderful thing to be given hope.

“OK?” he whispered, huskily as he sat back, piercing her with a slightly cautious and almost desperately hopeful gaze.

Robin caressed her fingertips across the skin which had recently been connected to the big, burly uber-confident hunk of ‘Solid Man’ facing her.  
“Yeah,” she whispered around her fingers, tugging on her own lip slightly, “I think it is.”

Strike exhaled the breath he realised he’d been holding.  
Wow!  
Life bloody well might just begin at forty after all!


End file.
